Lost
by GothicCheshire
Summary: "These things that are happening to them... it's obvious that it's a reaction to something that happens in their minds. This has to be something that happened in there. But Jim would never do this. There…there has to be someone else in there."
1. Understanding

_One thing before you go, "oh look, another suicide plot, Jeeze, does this girl ever realize that gets old?" Understand that this is NOT just 'another suicide plot'. I can't tell you what it is yet, understand though, that while it might start out that way, we're looking at something totally different. The rating may go up, I doubt it but I'm giving myself space, because the villain...yeah... So...please give it a chance. Another thing to please do, REVIEW :P  
..._

Jim sat next to the biobed, face in his hands and mouth pulled into a line. He didn't have room for tears anymore. McCoy sat next to him, face pulled into a grimace, but that didn't hide the way his eyes glittered suspiciously.

"What do we do for him?"

McCoy was silent for a moment, and then huffed out a sigh. "I don't know, Jim. I've never dealt with something like this before. I'm a psychologist as well as a doctor, true, but that's for humans, dammit… Not half Vulcans. Not for someone like Spock."

"'Someone like Spock', what's that supposed to mean, Bones?" Jim asked, looking up at him, his eyes were beginning to spit fire, and McCoy looked at the ground.

"What I mean is someone who's been trained their entire life to hold back emotions and who sees any SIGN of them as a weakness… Someone who watched their planet die…" His voice trailed off, and he just stared at the figure on the bed quietly, eyes vacant, not really seeing the body that lay there. "How did I not see it?"

Jim straightened slightly, and looked at Spock and then looked at Leonard, "Same reason I didn't Bones…he's Vulcan. Suicide…suicide isn't logical."

"And yet for some reason they seem to have an entire ceremony devoted to the act."

Jim flinched, trying to block out the images of what had awaited him in the First Officers quarters, the sight of Spock kneeling, half dead from blood loss, the smell of incense and copper thick in the air. The bloodstained knife resting on the pillow in front of him. He had rushed over, falling to his knees next to him before tearing the communicator off the desk and contacting Uhura to get McCoy down to Spock's room. He had applied a tourniquet, but the glazed look in Spock's eyes was more than he could bear, especially when accompanied by a faint push. Spock had tried to push him away.

Spock hadn't wanted to be saved.

It was the only reason McCoy could figure that the half Vulcan hadn't woken up yet. They had saved him from death three times since Jim had found him, the last two times without any real reason. Until it had become apparent through an invisibly grieving father that Vulcan's had more control over their bodies than any human could ever hope to have.

They had attached him to machinery. He was basically on life support.

Sarek was on his way, accompanied by Ambassador Salek. Jim didn't know what to say to them. He didn't know why. He had thought…he had thought that they had been friends. He had thought that he was 'happy'. There were so many signs, and now…

"Spock…" Jim finally said softly, reaching out and grabbing his wrist, not touching his hand, not wanting to violate that taboo. "Spock…" He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what else to do.

Uhura hadn't been able to enter the sickbay in the days that Spock had been there. She hadn't been able to, but she had never cried on the Bridge, she had always been professional. Chekov was a little different. His youth made him more vulnerable, but he stood strong and professional, all of Kirk's crew stayed as strong as they could. In private, only they knew how they reacted.

"Jim…" McCoy said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Come on. You've been here for hours. He's not going to wake up yet, I promise I'll contact you when he has."

Kirk took a breath and nodded. McCoy walked him out, and then turned back. He looked at the half Vulcan stretched out there, attached to various machinery and pulled his mouth into a line. "If you die, you bastard, I will never forgive you. Please, don't hurt him. He cares about you, for some crazy stupid reason, he cares about you."

With one last look at him, his eyes dark, he sighed and left, walking after Jim.  
….

The next day after shift, the ship was still making its way to New Vulcan due to the increased importance of any Vulcan, be it half-or otherwise, found Kirk where he was most evenings, next to Spock.

This time was different though. This time, Nyota cautiously walked through the door, Kirk standing up automatically as soon as he spotted her. Nyota walked forward briskly, unhesitant, the kind of air around her that somehow screamed that if she stopped now, she wouldn't come back. She sat next to Jim, avoiding eye contact, her head bowed.

Jim paused, and then looked back to Spock, then to Nyota, "I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry." He stood up, and began walking out.

"Wait…Kirk…" Nyota said suddenly, turning to look after him, her eyes big, and he realized that she was scared. "Please…I can't be here alone."

Jim blinked, and watched as her eyes filled, and he nodded, "Alright…alright…"

She gave him a weak smile, and let out a single choked sob, and he walked over, crouching down and wrapping his arms around her. That broke the back of her control, and she was sobbing into his shirt, quietly gasping 'why?' when she could gain the breath to whisper. Jim didn't cry, closing his eyes and holding her tighter.

McCoy crept in from his office, took one look at Nyota, who had her back to him, and Jim, who met his eyes over her shoulder and nodded, before retreating.

Minutes or possibly hours later she had cried herself out, but didn't remove her head from Jim's shoulder. Jim didn't make any move to remove her before she was ready, and she finally pulled back, looking at the damp spot on Jim's shoulder and giving him an apologetic half smile. Jim wiped away the last of her tears, and held her at arm's length, his eyebrows pinching together, "You feel better?"

"No," Uhura answered, a soft and self-depreciated smile turning the corners of her mouth, before she took a breath and looked back to Spock. Jim looked back at the half-Vulcan with fresh eyes, seeing him as she might have. He was pale and drawn. There were rings around his eyes, and he looked thinner than he ever had, and that was a frightening prospect. What had been a slender face before was now filled with shadows. They had been desperately trying to supply him with proper nutrients, but it seemed that even with life support he was finding a way to rebel. He was…vulnerable.

The strongest out of all of them was vulnerable, defenseless, and was in need of _their_ protection, _their_ strength. He had been for a while, Jim thought, and they had failed him. He twisted his mouth into a line and dropped his head into his hands finally, "What did I do, Nyota? What did I miss? How could…why did…why did he?"

Nyota opened her mouth and shut it again, "I don't know, captain." She finally whispered. "I have no idea, and I hate it. I thought…I thought I knew him. We broke up, but he…we were still friends… Jim…"

"Did you notice him acting strangely, Nyota? Was there any sign of this? Anything at all?"

Uhura shook her head, her eyebrows pinching together. "Nothing. He was….he was 'content'. I don't understand."

Jim gave her a soft smile, "That makes two of us…I'm…I'm gonna go. I'll leave you some time alone. I know you need it."

Uhura gave him a soft smile, "Thank you, captain. I'm sorry about your shirt…"

Jim looked down at the damp patch and back up to her with a grin. "At least it's still in one piece. I'd take a little salt water over the rips any day. I'm sure the people who actually GET my shirts would too."

Nyota managed a laugh at that, and Jim counted it as a job well done. He made sure to get all the way back to McCoy's office before his own shoulders slumped.

McCoy was waiting, leaning back in his chair, two glasses of liquor in front of him on the desk. Jim accepted one, sitting down on the other side. "Hey, Bones…"

"She finally got here. I'm glad, I was probably gonna wind up havin' to talk to her if she hadn't…" McCoy said conversationally, taking a sip of his drink. He was the ship's resident psychologist as well as their doctor. The newer crew was always surprised at the cantankerous doctor when he took on that duty. He was good at what he did, and whatever they told him, unless necessary for the ship's proper function, was never told to anyone. Jim had known that longer than anyone else, and their banter that doubled as sessions was so familiar to them that they could slip into it without trouble. Most of the time, Jim could even forget that they were really supposed to be counseling sessions.

"Jim…answer me clearly, please, are you blaming yourself?" This was obviously not going to be one of those times. He was being unusually blunt. Jim blinked, and sat back slowly, studiously ignoring him for the moment and finally taking a breath.

"No. Stop," Jim looked up at him in surprise at that word. Bones was never like this. "I know you well enough to tell that you're about to give me some bullshit response that you think I want to hear. Well I have news for you, I don't."

Jim took a breath, eyes flicking to the door, to the floor, and back to McCoy, emotions warring in constant turmoil under the surface, and finally gave a barked, "Yes, dammit, I blame myself! I'm supposed to be his friend, I'm supposed to have a friendship that 'will define us both in more ways than I can imagine', and yet… Bones, I walked in on him kneeling on the floor in a puddle of blood, a knife in front of him and a look of such…_relief_ on his face that I…" He choked, gestured helplessly and collapsed back into his chair. "What did I do, McCoy? Why would he…I don't understand."

McCoy took a breath, and closed his eyes. "I don't get it either. I never picked up on it… I just… I took him for granted. Now that he's…" Bones' voice trailed off, and he slumped back in his seat. "I've never made that big of an error before that I couldn't see something that big."

Jim took a breath and drained his glass, thinking over his possible responses, and finally chose the simplest one. "Take your own advice. Don't blame yourself, Bones; none of us saw it coming."

McCoy shook his head. "That's the one thing that makes the least amount of sense. There's no logical explanation…"

On that note, Jim nodded and left.  
…

Later that night though, Jim couldn't sleep. He had been experiencing that phenomenon lately though, so that wasn't much different. But this time something was different, this time McCoy's words were the cause of it. 'No logical explanation' he had said, and that got him thinking. The only one that had a logical answer was Spock, and it was in Spock's head…

That thought made him sit up. He swung himself out of bed and pulled on his black undershirt as well as some of the pants that he had strewn on the floor. He was in too much of a hurry to worry about his appearance too much.

That done he walked into the corridor, padding along the floor in his bare feet on the way to the sickbay. He spared no thought to what they might think, merely continued. He was on a mission, he doubted it was possible, he wasn't naturally telepathic, but if Spock…

He refused to get his hopes too high.

He walked into sickbay and directly up to Spock's bed, and after a moment's hesitation, crawled on it next to him. If this was going to take a lot of time, he didn't want to come back to his own body cramped. He begged that Spock would forgive him for it later. That done, he slowly reached out, pressing his fingers to the meld points on Spock's face, clumsily placing the Vulcan's own hand on his and desperately tried to force his consciousness into it. Desperately wishing for Spock to recognize him, have him pull him inside his mind, show him what was wrong.

At first there was no response, and Jim nearly broke down then and there, but then he felt a tug, something familiar… The next moment his world had turned upside down, and in the conscious world, Jim knew no more.

Five hours later, McCoy found them like that, their fingers pressed in the meld position. He took one look, and smashed his fist on the intercom, "McCoy to bridge, get to Vulcan double time, the situation just got more critical. The Captain's done something stupid again."


	2. What

_I had a bit of fun with Mind Melds. So...this is my possible interpretation of what that sort of thing could be like. Most of this story will take place in this...thing that I have created. Understand that this is going to get quite dark quite fast. I have one more chapter finished, but I am going to attempt to keep posting semi-regularly, summer vac coming up soon as well. Yay another plus... Anyway, I own very little in this story, if you don't recognize it from the movie/tv series...I probably do own that. That said, enjoy  
..._

Jim felt weightless, like he was everywhere and nowhere, floating in a void of nothing. It was so different to the other meld that he had been in, that he was almost worried that something had gone wrong and he was dead. That was when he realized that he was obviously alive; otherwise he highly doubted that he would have time to contemplate if this was death.

He was confused, possibly delirious and unable to tell which way was up, and which way was down. He wasn't sure if there WAS an up or down. He couldn't see anything…and that was when he realized that he didn't have eyes. In fact…he didn't seem to have anything. A small bubble of panic began growing, and then rippled out into the mental scape around him. He had no control.

Kirk tried to concentrate on control, on keeping himself together, he couldn't afford to panic, he had no idea how he could affect Spock's mind. He had no idea how to work this thing…surely if Spock pulled him in… Maybe it wasn't his conscious mind that did so. Maybe it was his subconscious… That thought made Jim pause, and slowly try and piece together a plan.

He had to get its attention. But how could he do it? He had no lungs…he was just… And that's when it hit him. This was a meld, a joining of two minds, was it possible that he could influence it slightly using his mind? The thought caused him to immediately begin concentrating on forming a body, forming something tangible in this otherwise mass of nothing.

Jim projected what he wanted, an image of himself as he knew, and began slowly trying to force it to come to fruition. It was harder than he had expected. This wasn't his mind, and unlike Vulcans he had no training, he had no idea how to control it. He wasn't sure if he _could_ control it.

Jim concentrated harder, slowly but surely forcing himself into being. He took a breath with his newly formed lungs, and stretched his perception out, trying to see if he could delve deeper into what he knew. Next moment he had eyes, and he opened them, looking down at the only thing that had form, himself.

He was pleased to note that he seemed to have gotten everything right, from his nails to his fingertips. There were no fingerprints though, because he couldn't remember what they looked like. Jim reflected with amusement on how odd that looked, even though, as mentioned, he didn't even remember their appearance.

He had thankfully had the foresight to imagine himself in his command gold uniform, but as there was nothing around, he didn't see how it would have mattered. This of course worried him exponentially. This was Spock, Spock's mind was never blank, he was positive of that much, but there was nothing here, no one…

Well…he'd given himself form. Maybe he could gain his attention. That thought made him automatically stretch his mind out, searching for anything that reminded him of Spock, anything that would help him find out _why_.

He had just begun searching, when all of a sudden, a hallway snapped into being around him. It was long, and bright piercing light shone down around him, and Jim squinted his eyes nearly closed automatically, even though he felt no pain. Seems he had forgotten some more things than fingerprints. There was silence, nothing else around him except for the hallway and the light.

He blinked several times, and looked around. There were no doors, and as he looked up, he was shocked to find that there were lights floating in the nothingness, but no ceiling. He blinked, and suddenly he was looking at Spock. Only this Spock was different, this Spock had a look of malevolence in his eyes, and a slight smile to his face.

"Captain," the voice was teasing, sneering, and his eyes shone.

Jim backed up automatically, his eyes going wide. He backed away quicker, only to blink at the feeling of running into something solid. He whirled around and Spock stood there calmly, raising an eyebrow, "Honestly captain, you went to so much trouble to get here, now you're here and you don't seem too happy to see me."

Contractions…he was using contractions, showing emotion, and he looked murderous. Jim backed farther away. Spock advanced a few steps, a slight smile tugging at his mouth; only it wasn't like any of the other slight hints of smile he had seen on the half Vulcan's mouth. This one was dark, threatening, a slow parting of the lips to reveal white teeth made Jim back up faster. That wasn't the only thing that was different. His ears were wrong, a little less pointed, and his eyes…

"You're not Spock…" Jim finally whispered, and his eyes widened further. The one who wasn't Spock smiled wider, and slowly stepped forward.

"Very astute of you, Captain…but do you know who I am?"

"No…" Jim said, his back hitting the wall, and trying to press himself closer to it, farther away from whoever it was that had gotten into Spock's mind…

"I know who you are, and I must say I'm glad to finally get to see you. Spock tried so hard to protect you, you know…you and the pitiful beings on this ship…" He reached out, and Jim turned his head away, eyes wide, terrified.

"STOP!" The voice was loud, shrill, and Jim automatically flicked his eyes to the origin of it, shocked to see a small Vulcan boy standing at the end of the corridor. "Get away from the Captain!"

The one who looked like Spock let out a hiss, and reached his arm out further, only to have the Vulcan lift his hand up, and make a motion like he was throwing something. Next moment, he had been shoved away, and the Vulcan boy was standing next to him, looking up at him with wide eyes before grabbing his wrist and beginning to pull him away from the one behind them.

"What's going on?" Jim shouted out, only for the boy to tighten his hold, and run faster.

"We must get out of this corridor, he has full control here."

"But…how can he have control?"

"Please, there will be time for explanations later, run faster!"

Jim picked up the pace, trying to remember that his mind detailed how fast he could go, not how fast he moved his legs. In a short time his longer legs were moving faster than the boys, and he looked down at him before scooping him up, a soft protest coming from his mouth before he grabbed hold of his neck tighter.

Then a shape solidified in front of them, and the Spock that wasn't stood there, a snarling smile on his face, "Leaving so soon?"

Jim didn't even slow down, instead he ran faster, the small Vulcan boy tightening his grip. He wasn't sure what his expression was, but he knew what the intruder's expression was. One of complete and total shock, and he took that moment of shock to run right past him, and finally fall into the blackness.

He let out a shout, and felt the Vulcan boy tense, before he was falling towards sand and heat. Jim rolled in the air, cradling the boy to his chest so he wouldn't fall on him, and landed with a 'THUD' on the sand, sending gusts of it everywhere. He panted, lying still, and finally let go of the boy, who slid off of his chest, looking around before standing, and spreading his hands slightly, and slowly lifting them up. Jim watched as walls slowly came into being around them, impenetrable and thick, and the Captain was given a moment to simply stare at his defenses in wonder.

Then the Vulcan boy looked at him, and stared. "Your appearance is adequate, you did a masterful job for one who has never been in a meld in this manner."

Jim was silent for a moment, blinking and then gave a brief nod, "Thank you."

"However…if you would permit me, I could improve it to something you would be more familiar with."

Jim blinked and then nodded, "Thank you." He couldn't think of a better response than that.

He reached his hand out and pressed it onto his face, Jim felt a slight tightening in his features, and then realized that he had FELT that. The next moment all the aches and pains that one would expect after falling from a great height and landing heavily came flooding through him and he let out a groan.

The boy jerked back, "Did I do something wrong?"

Jim blinked, and then shook his head quickly, "No, no, everything's fine." He looked down at his hands and blinked before smiling, "You even gave me fingerprints. I just had all my nerves remind me that I fell from a great height and nearly killed myself, that's all…" He smiled at him in a reassuring manner, and then looked at him closer, "Who are you?"

"I am Spock."

Jim blinked, and looked at him closely, "But you're so young…" That hadn't been his kneejerk response, but it was the one that got his beliefs across, and that was something he had learned to do with his Spock.

"I am the only one who was not taken over."

"Taken…over?"

"The others were taken. I do not know where. I do not know what by, or who he is. I do not have access to the memories that are relevant."

Jim stared at him, considering his words before piecing together parts of the story. "He's been hunting you. You're the only one that can stop him, but you're young, and you lack the experience needed to rebel him fully. He…" His eyes widened, and he looked down at the little boy sitting before him cross legged, and took a moment to realize what he was dressed in, and just how young he looked. Then he took in his face, and his eyes widened at the worry and fear he found there. "You…you tried to stop him the only way you knew how."

The younger Spock stared up at him, a touch of defiance in his face, "You should not have stopped me. Now that you have stopped me it is possible he could gain control of my body. He could kill you all."

Jim was floored, and then he reached out and grabbed his shoulders, "Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

"I could not! Any time I tried he would come and he would…he was…insistent. I was unable to stop him. He trapped me. I found my mouth sealed shut, and I could only watch. He was too strong for me, captain. Now that you are here...Captain, now that you are here he can hurt you too. Do you not understand that that was what I was trying to avoid? Please…Jim, you must get out, you must leave me. I cannot stop him, not on my own, and I am the only one left."

Jim stared into those eyes, marveling at the pure determination that was in them, and the resignation that he saw there, but he was shaking his head before Spock had even finished talking. "There is no way I'm going to let you kill yourself Spock."

"You do not understand Jim, there is no other way, he is here, and I cannot make him go away, I cannot stop him." Spock looked up at him, and Jim took one look into his eyes and felt bile rising in his throat. Spock was petrified, but trying desperately not to show it. His mind was taken over, and he had limited or no control, he was living in borrowed time before whatever the thing was found him and captured him. When that happened…When that happened, there was no telling what he would make Spock do, and that small Spock knew it, and he was willing to sacrifice himself to make sure that the _Enterprise_ was safe.

Jim had no idea what to do.


	3. You

_Hello people, more angst, confusion, and general insanity on your plate today, have fun and think insane!  
..._

McCoy looked down at the two lying on the biobed, his eyes glaring and his was face angry, but his mind was a whirlpool of worry. After a moment of contemplation he pushed another biobed next to the one Spock was on, positioning Jim on the other one and careful not to detach their hands from their faces. This way Jim's arm had less chance of cramping. He had set them up to monitor both their vital signs and any mental activity spikes.

So far there had been several, and one of them had worried him. It was almost as though Jim had been in pain for a moment. There were no physical signs, but his nerves reacted as though he had. It had begged the following questions to be contemplated: what happened if Jim died in Spock's mind? What happened if Spock died? Would he be trapped? Would he die too?

That was what prompted him to go over to the half-Vulcan, nearly in tears and crouch down so he could whisper in his ear. "You listen to me, you hobgoblin…I don't know if you're aware but Jim's in your head…Jim. The captain, your friend. He…he doesn't deserve to die like this, Spock. So you had better not kill him, you better realize that whatever the hell you think is too horrible to face isn't as bad as you think it is. You better realize that you have _friends_, friends who could and would die for you at the drop of a hat should they have to. So you better come out of that state and talk to me, talk to us; tell us what the problem is.

"Please, _please_ Spock… I'm not just asking for Jim, I'm asking for you, I'm asking for myself. You…you're my friend too. And I…I couldn't handle it if you both died. I couldn't handle it if you died. I'd forever blame myself for not seeing what the hell the problem was and trying to fix it. I'm a doctor…I'm a psychologist, I'm supposed to see these things, hell I'm _trained_ to see these things… So you wake up soon, ya' hear? Or…or else I'll start drawing mustaches and monobrows on you…and that won't look very logical _or_ dignified." With that last rather…weak threat he sat down on the chair next to the bed and began the long hours of what he knew would be a very stressful and very long watch.  
…

Jim stared at the small boy before him, mind racing through all the things he could say, and quickly dismissing them all as either too emotional or irrelevant. Spock stared at him silently, eyes full of a quiet determination. "You must get out, Captain. Please. I must stop him, now you know why I have been trying to kill myself, should I die, he will also die, and then he will be unable to hurt any of you."

That simple quiet statement made Jim react with a violent, "No!" Spock jumped slightly, eyes wide and Jim almost regretted doing that. It showed exactly how stressed and scared that Spock was, and he couldn't help but feel that he was hurting him. "Spock…I won't go. And you said it yourself, if you die, you take him with you, but you'll also take me. You understand me? I'm not going anywhere."

That made the young Spock look up at him with wide eyes, defeat and hopeless despair shining in their depths, "Then we will both die, and the crew will follow."

"You give a lot of credit to this being…"

"Jim, you do not understand, out of all the members in the crew that he could have chosen to take over, he chose another telepath. He chose one that would have the strongest shields. He chose me for a purpose, Captain, and I believe I understand the reason."

"Enlighten me…" Jim said softly, his eyes dark, but he was beginning to connect the dots as well.

"Alone he has the power to do nothing, but through me…through me he has access to most of the records, and the knowledge to get the rest. You understand, Captain, that just because I do not have clearance does not mean I do not have the means to get them. I am stronger than everyone on that ship, and they would be too happy to see me walking and alive to care about the possible differences. He could keep you trapped here. He could force you to watch as he hurts and kills your friends…the Doctor…"

Jim shook his head, "It doesn't have to be this way, we can fight him."

"Jim…we cannot fight him, I have already lost. He is here, and I believe that it is to stay."

"Spock, you can't give up, you can't…surely there's something you can do…you're just willing to give up, but I can't let you do that. Dammit Spock…do you want to die, is that it? Is this some strange excuse to…" He let his voice trail off at seeing the hurt and despair that filled the boy's eyes.

"I do not _want_ to die…" It was then that Jim realized what it meant to be in a meld. Jim knew for a fact that if this was not in a meld, he would not see the tears that pooled in those brown eyes and slid down that face. He wouldn't see the way the lower lip trembled slightly, and the way the boy curled up, burying his face in his hands and falling into quiet sobs.

For a moment Jim was still, and then he reached out carefully, touching his shoulder. Spock flinched and looked up at him, and took in the sight of the open arms, and the hesitant face and made a decision. Next moment Jim found himself with an armful of crying half-Vulcan, and he was almost even more distraught at feeling just how small he was. He rested his chin on the sleek-haired head, desperately trying to reign in his own feelings of hopelessness. He needed to be the strong one now. He couldn't afford to show the weakness he felt.

He just desperately wished that the boy wouldn't pick up on it anyway.

"Shhh…shh…it'll be alright. You don't have to be afraid. You don't have to be afraid. You aren't alone any more, I'm here…" He continued whispering, coaxing the boys tears into stopping, holding him tightly and rocking, losing himself in a far away memory when he was little. When his mom was there when he was sick…before he started looking too much like his dad and she could still stand to look at him.

Finally Spock stopped crying, his fist still curled up in the command gold of his shirt. "I do not want to face him. He…he shows me things. Things that he is going to do, things that have been done."

"Jim…please, call me Jim. I made the older Spock stop calling me 'captain' off duty ages ago, please…" Kirk was processing the other part of the statement, speaking as he thought, mind turning in a whirlwind of possibilities. He didn't like any of them. He held the boy tighter and let go. "Why can't you beat him? Why can't you…I don't know…find a way to change it to something else? Like…will him away, or imagine it as something different?"

The little Spock backed away slightly on the sand, looking up at him closely. "I do not have an imagination."

Jim blinked, and shook his head, "That's impossible. What's this? This is totally something that is imagined…" Spock was shaking his head before he had even stopped talking.

"This is not imagined, it is real. There was a place like this on Vulcan. It is a place I ventured to. These walls, they are the product of a technique, not an imagination. My human half came up with the idea for walls. I am bound by logic, by what can and cannot exist, memories that can be interacted with, but never something that does not exist."

"But…what about your human half, where is he?"

"I do not have him with me."

Jim's eyes widened. "Where is he?"

"He separated us, and then he took him. I do not know where to. Possibly in the same place he is holding the others… I have never been without him before."

That simple quiet statement made Jim tense, and he looked at Spock quietly. "I can help you." He spoke before he thought, and Spock looked up at him with wide eyes. But as he thought of it, it made sense. "Yeah, I can help you; I can be your imagination. Maybe…maybe you could use my mind and we can beat him together." Spock moved his head in a negating fashion, his eyes determined. "But why? We already proved that I could run faster than you. It's more fluid…less concrete for me…"

"You do not have the training, he…Captain, he defeated me at my best."

"You were surprised, it's not like…Spock, we can beat him…"

"Jim, you must leave. If he hurts you I will never forgive myself. Please. Leave while you have a chance."

"No. I'm not going to do it. You can either help me, or I'm going to find a way to stop him on my own."

"You cannot!"

"Then HELP ME! You know…help you. I can't leave you here when I know that I'm leaving you to death. Please, Spock…let me help. We make a good team. We've saved Earth before against a giant behemoth ship and some insane Romulan. We can take him. Please…"

The young Spock looked up at him through eyes that were too big for his face, the high collar of his long tunic framing his head and making him seem even smaller. He looked so _young_. "That was a different Spock, an older Spock. I am neither as experienced nor as capable. Jim…should we do this it is very possible that one or both of us will die, and should I die, you will be trapped here. Then you will die as well."

"Please, Spock; I can't go back there knowing that I could have helped. The crew would never let me get away with it, they would commit mutiny, and I myself would never forgive myself for it. Another thing, it is _never_ a good day to die, but if this is the day and I die helping my friend save his mind…it's worth it. It's worth it and I swear to you that I couldn't live with myself if I hadn't tried."

The boy looked up at him, eyes shining slightly. "I do not know how to stop him."

"We'll figure it out together. I promise. Now please…trust me…let me help." He reached his hand out in the only gesture he knew that would allow the boy a chance to meet him half way, begin to help him cooperate.

Spock stared at him, and slowly reached his hand out, wrapping around his wrist, Jim's hand latching onto the much smaller one. He was slightly amazed that the fingers were long enough to wrap around his wrist considering how small Spock was, but his fingers were long, and surprisingly strong for someone of his height. But considering he was Vulcan he wasn't all that surprised.

"Do we have a plan of attack?"

"We need to free my counterpart…my doppelganger. Once I have him I should be able to mount a successful rebellion. But without him… I do not have the ability. I do not know where he would be kept."

"We'll find him. I promise."

"You make many promises."

Jim gave him a smile. "I keep every one, and I refuse to let this be the one time when I don't."

Spock met his eyes closely, and slowly gave a nod.

The next moment there was a loud THUD against the shield that surrounded them. Spock winced slightly at the impact, and Jim looked around for anything that could cause it, but the shield was strong and opaque. He could see nothing through it.

A few moments later another thud echoed, and then another at a different part. Spock stood up then and Jim was quick to follow, the both of them turning their heads and pivoting to face each thud.

Then it happened. A single long crack spiderwebbed its way across the shield. Spock's eyes widened slightly, but the sudden burst of noise from the outside of the shield made Jim tense.

Soft giggling laughter accompanied a soft teasing voice that was barely recognizable as the First Officer's, "You can't stay in there foreveerrr…. You're going to have to come out soon. When you do we can have lots of fun…"

It was strange, and he had to admit terrifying to hear that kind of immaturity and teasing in the half-Vulcan's voice. He looked at the young Spock who had lifted his hands, sealing the crack with a swift movement like he was painting. He had just sealed that one when another one came into being.

"Aw…nice try…"

Sealed it again.

"I'm afraid…"

Sealed.

"You have…"

Closed.

"To try…"

Shut.

"Something else."

The entire shield was destroyed, imploding, Jim automatically shielding the boy with his body. Debris scattered, flying through the air, barely missing them. Their eyes were shut tight, the increase of sand and heat flying through the air in the memory making Jim more uncomfortable. When the last debris fell, Jim squinted his eyes open.

What he saw made him nearly throw up, and he brought his hand up to cover Spock's eyes and prevent him from opening them. "Spock…whatever you do, I don't want you to look, okay? You can't look…" He finally whispered in a broken voice, and he felt Spock's body tense.

He wished he hadn't.


	4. Mean

_Thanks to six23 for the constructive criticism. I tried to incorporate some of your suggestions. Here's hoping you all enjoy.  
..._

Jim kept his hand over the young boy's eyes, comforting himself with the thought that since he was already in a meld there shouldn't be an increase in their telepathic contact. He desperately wished that that was the case. He didn't want Spock to see what was surrounding them through his eyes. He did his best to not look. He slowly stood up, keeping his hand over Spock's eyes and bringing the boy up with him and cradling him to his chest after a moment of awkward maneuvering. During that time Spock remained limp, allowing Jim to maneuver him.

As soon as he was cradled to his chest, Jim turned the small head to press into his shoulder, "Don't look…just…don't look." Spock didn't say a word, simply pressing his eyes onto the soft golden cloth. Jim however was staring around in absolute horror at the world around him. It looked like it had been frozen in time, the sky was an angry shade of red and maroon, the ground had cracks and holes in the ground, lava bubbling to the surface off in the distance. Debris were strewn across the ground, rocks, glass, and metal from the crumbling city that had sprouted up around them. All in all it looked like time had been frozen when Vulcan was being destroyed. He could only hope that it stayed frozen.

But none of that was as bad as the bodies.

Men, women, children, all strewn across the ground in various impossible poses, each of them dead, each of them with an expression of such fear on their faces that it made him sick. He had never seen so many bodies, and he had never seen such emotion on a Vulcan's face. Directly in front of him was a small Vulcan boy, about Spock's age it seemed, who would look like he was sleeping, if not for the metal splinter that was sticking out of his head. Off to the side Jim thought he saw the boy's mother, her eyes wide in terror, and her hand reaching out.

He desperately wished that this wouldn't be the only time that he got to see Vulcans lose their emotional masks. It didn't seem right. It didn't seem fair, and Jim felt a flash of hatred to whoever was doing this.

Various buildings had collapsed around them, the little circle where Spock's shield had been seemed to have the only safe ground to walk on, but he needed to get out of the city, get away from the bodies so Spock wouldn't have to see. As old as he really was outside of the meld, his childhood self shouldn't be scarred in such a manner. He was positive that it would only lead to his adult self being even more secluded and stifled.

Jim took a step, his feet crunching on glass and he realized with almost detached amazement that the sand itself had been turned to glass due to the heat. He was desperately thankful that that heat wasn't something that he could feel. Less pleased at the fact that he could feel it getting steadily colder, as though the heat was being sucked up as well as the planet itself. He kept walking, trying to avoid the bodies, but his eyes wouldn't stay away.

A couple holding each other tighter than they had in life, a group of children with eyes that were wide and terrified, a mother clutching a baby to her chest. Everywhere he looked was another sight that would stay with him for the rest of his life, that he would revisit in his nightmares. He kept his hand on Spock, his hand moving up and down on the cloth covered back reflexively. The quiet and stillness in the air was dreadful. He almost wished for a sound to split the silence. A moment later he wanted to take it back.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when sudden wailing and fear-filled cries split the silence like a hatchet. There was barely a second for him to flinch before words began filtering through, crying out their agony in a language that hadn't held that much emotion in centuries. It was only when Spock tried to straighten up that Jim realized that Spock could understand what they were saying. He didn't have his universal translator inside the meld, and only pressed Spock's head to his shoulder tighter, and tried to whisper into that pointed ear next to him, trying to drown out the voices.

He could tell by the trembling that he was not succeeding. He began to run, and that was when the world came alive. The buildings began crumbling all around them, the ground shaking and rumbling. The heavy gravity made him stumble, but he refused to fall, his head and eyes constantly turning to look and make sure he didn't fall on anything or have something fall on _them_.

Jim tried to avoid looking at the various Vulcans that ran around him in a panic, calling out to loved ones that were either dead or dying. Heading for shuttles, he thought. The heat was sucking away from the planet, and he was finding it harder to breathe. It was then that he remembered that this was a meld. For just a moment he concentrated on letting himself breathe more, and realized that was a mistake.

He tripped over a crack in the ground, and Spock went flying from his grip, rolling on the glass like sand and landing on his stomach facing Jim. Jim watched in a moment of frozen horror as Spock's eyes opened reflexively, stared into his own blue eyes for a moment before the rest of what he was seeing caught up with his brain. It took less time than Jim hoped.

Spock took one look around him and his eyes widened, a suspicious sheen appearing on them but there was so much shock on his face that Jim was unsurprised that he wasn't able to cry. Then a rumbling caught his attention.

He looked up, and he felt his heart stop at the sight of the building beginning to crumble down, falling directly towards the small Vulcan boy. Jim's eyes widened and he let out a shout, his own voice joining the screams of the others, but this was a meld. He had control. That thought in mind he pushed himself up quickly, and launched himself at the boy, imagining himself making it there in time, imagining himself scooping him up and holding him close as he ran them out of the way.

It didn't happen the way he had hoped.  
…..

McCoy was woken from a fitful sleep when the biobeds began screeching their warnings loudly. He jerked upright, eyes locking on the machines and eyes tracing the machinery, widening when he noticed the ones monitoring heart rate and respiration had both sped up to alarming rates. He jumped upright, eyes searching for any visible reason, the nurses running to his aid automatically.

Fitfully he tried to stabilize them, unaware of what he was fighting against, but unwilling to let it go untreated when it was taking such a critical turn. He pressed hypos to their necks, trying to stabilize their breathing and heart rate. He just hoped that it didn't interfere with whatever they were doing in the meld.

A moment later they both flat lined.  
….

Jim desperately threw himself forward, but realized he would be too late the moment he launched himself. He let out a shout of desperation and horror, watching as the building continued its fall, and Spock scrambled forward at a desperate crawl, fingers bleeding green as they scrabbled against the glass like ground.

He wasn't going to make it.

Jim brought his hands on the ground hard, mind desperately envisioning something with all his heart, wishing it would stop. The building landed with a complete absence of sound as everything stopped. Jim let out a desperate shout, running forward quickly, barely aware of the fact that the world was caving in around him. Vanishing in blackness.

He dug frantically through the rubble, fingers bruising and bleeding, but he kept going. He had no choice. He couldn't be dead. He barely started helping him…he couldn't be dead.

It was taking too long. Jim rocked back on his heels for a moment, wiping at the sweat drenching his forehead and his hair and began to think. He had gone faster when he forced himself to think like that, he was just sloppy at it. That was all. He needed to get something to remove the rubble, or maybe imagine it gone…

That was easy; while he was at it he could imagine that he hadn't failed too.

He pressed his forehead to the building and imagined that he could go through it. That it didn't exist. This wasn't a memory, and the boy had said that his world only operated in memories… He hadn't been in the city when Vulcan was destroyed. Spock had told him about it later, half whispers, half quiet intensity. He needed him to be okay. He hadn't returned the favor yet.

He fell through the rubble with a surprised shout, landing in a pit that had opened up underneath it, a large piece of wall preventing the rest from falling through. It was terribly dark, but he desperately reached around, his fingers jerking back when he felt something wet under them, but he refused to let that stop him.

He followed the trail to a small form, and looked around desperately, hoping his eyes would adjust to the…next moment he blinked and found with a kind of hopeless relief that he could see. Spock was a crumpled heap, his head bleeding from a spot on his temple, his fingers oozing blood and his eyes closed tightly. Jim reached out, bringing his fingers under the high collar and prodding at his neck, trying to find a pulse. When he couldn't immediately find one, Jim almost broke down, but then he moved it away from where a human usually had it and found a rapid thrumming under his fingers.

Spock was unconscious, but he was alive.

Jim really did break down.  
….

A moment after their hearts stopped, long enough for McCoy to begin shouting his curses and desperation, they beat again, and their heart rate calmed. He fell to his knees next to the beds, breathing quietly trembling slightly. The nurses trickled out one after another after making sure they were stable, their eyes lingering on the doctor, unwilling to leave, but knowing it was necessary, and willing to give him some privacy.

All but one. Christine Chapel quietly walked forward and lowered herself down next to McCoy. The doctor looked glazed and worn and she looked at him silently, reaching out a hand to grip his shoulder in a silent show of support.

"I don't know what's going on, Christine. That's what kills me. Two of my friends are stuck in their own personal hell and I have absolutely no idea what's going on. I don't know why it's happing, or even how it's happening. But it is…their bodies are reacting to some form of internal stimuli. It's not unheard of, but the physical consequences… Look at this, Christine."

He stood up and led Chapel to where Jim lay, and indicated his face, and Chapel gave a brief gasp at realizing what was on it. Green blood from Spock's hand had covered it, and McCoy gave a curse as he looked at Spock. A moment later he had pulled out a dermal regenerator and ran it over the wound on the black haired head.

The jagged-looking cut only reopened again and he tossed the regenerator away in disgust, dragging in a box of bandages instead and winding it around in an attempt to at least stem the flow. He couldn't do anything to the hand unless he wanted to break the connection, and he didn't know what would happen if it did break. For all they knew it would kill them instantly, or give them permanent brain damage, and neither option was acceptable.

Chapel smoothed the sheets around them both, smoothing Jim's hair and getting a cloth to wipe the sweat from his hair, carefully mopping the blood away from his nose and getting rid of as much as she could. He couldn't afford to breathe it in only to gag on it. Other than that there wasn't much she could do.

"We'll get to Vulcan in three days at the speed we're going. We'd go faster, and knowing Scotty we'll get there in two, but due to the last mission they're busy trying to hold everything together." Chapel said finally, quietly. McCoy nodded in acknowledgement.

There was nothing else to be said. They could only wait.


	5. To

_I am SO sorry that it took this long. I was having writers block for a while until something HUGE smashed me upside the head with a sledgehammer and snapped me out of it. _  
...

Jim had managed to make the small hole they were stuck in for the moment livable. He didn't want to move the boy, and he considered it a safe haven for the moment, until Spock could place them in another memory. He had isolated it from the rest of the area, even if Vulcan continued its implosion, they would be safe. He had placed lights on the 'roof', they were dim, but they worked, and Jim was inordinately pleased with himself.

The next thing he did was imagine a flow of air. Then the bandages and medical equipment he needed so he could fix Spock up, McCoy would be proud. Seemed he had actually learned something from that medical crash course. He wished he knew how to make a dermal regenerator, but he had found that Spock's mind was enforcing its own rules. It would only come into being if he knew how it worked. Spock hadn't woken up yet, curled in a ball, his hands and head bandaged. He didn't think it was possible for a subconscious to get a concussion so he didn't bother with that.

So here he was, stuck in a hole in someone's mind desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. Of how to save them both.

This was the first time he could ever remember being at a total loss of what to do. He had no idea. His fingers twitched when Spock gave a brief whimper, curling up slightly. Blue eyes turned to the small boy in concern, and he waited a moment, not quite sure what to do. His mother had never really been there for any of his nightmares…and his step-father? No chance in hell.

But when Spock let out another whimper and clenched his eyes shut, curling up tighter and shivering, Jim crawled forward, pausing for a moment before reaching out and touching his temple. He smoothed his hand over the boy's head brushing slightly bloody bangs away from the boy's face, whispering his name as he did so. Spock twitched a little, but didn't relax, and Jim found himself once again pulling Spock into his embrace. There was an immediate jolt, and Spock finally opened his eyes.

The relief Jim felt at finally seeing the brown orbs, was tempered by the fear he found in them, by the crippling sadness. "Spock…it's okay, it's just me. You're safe."

Spock paused and seemed to relax, realizing where he was and who was holding him, but he was silent in a way that Jim didn't like. It was then that he realized that Spock still hadn't stopped trembling.

"Spock…I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry. That was just..." His voice trailed off as he thought about what had happened. What he had seen. He gritted his teeth and a slow feeling of complete and total rage slowly curled in his chest as the image of Spock's reaction danced in his minds eye, if he had a mind here. He couldn't afford to be sorry; he had to make sure that it didn't happen again. He had to stop that thing. He needed to save Spock. He could. He would.

Spock shook his head, and accepted the hug for as long as Jim wished to hold him. Jim noticed with almost numb detachment that the lights grew brighter in that moment. He noticed that Spock was comfortable on him, and he slowly pulled him back a little so he could examine his eyes and look at his bandaged hands and head.

"How are you feeling?"

"Physically…I am functional. Emotionally…I have been better.

Jim's eyes widened in shock at hearing the small boy mention emotions, but then he saw a slight twist of a smile and understood.

"There is no logic in hiding what is plainly visible. Jim…I will get over it. Sometime."

"Alright…but if you need help…"

"I shall come to you."

"Thank you." He paused, looking at Spock closely, noticing the tired appearance, the slightly green tint under his eyes, and then the quiet tears that slid down the boys face. He reached out slowly, and brushed at one of the tears, only to be flooded with a feeling of such despair and horror that he let out a gasp and felt his own eyes well with the clear salty fluid. He had found what Spock was feeling, and it tore his heart in two, shared by what he now realized to be pure drops of despair and sadness. He pulled him closer and the boy broke down finally, quietly sobbing into his chest.

It was difficult, but Jim didn't let himself shed any more tears. Instead he turned his mind to finding out how to find the Vulcan's human half. He ran through ideas, trying to find something that made sense. That could be used. Spock slowly cried himself out, and Jim realized something.

"Spock…if you were to hide something in here, where would you put it?" It was a sudden idea, a hunch.

Spock blinked at him for a moment pulling back slightly to wipe at his eyes roughly. "Where everything else is hidden. Behind the barriers."

Jim blinked. "Barriers?"

Spock was silent for a moment and slowly backed away from his hold, sitting slightly stiffly. "You are aware of the fact that Vulcans have emotions."

Jim nodded slowly, and then his eyes widened. "You have them but you hide them."

Spock nodded, "Behind the barriers. Every emotional response is taken, analyzed and hidden. The stronger the emotion, the larger and stronger the barrier. The…more painful the memory the thicker the barrier. I keep them, reflect on them, analyze what caused them, and eventually put them away. Everything is catalogued, everything has a place."

Jim had a smile on his face, an idea blossoming in his mind. "What if he's behind the barriers?"

Spock's eyes widened automatically, in the meld there was nothing to hide the emotions behind. "You believe that he might be using my own defenses against me." Jim didn't notice the way Spock said it. The numb fear and apprehensive resignation.

"You said it yourself; the barriers are thick in order to prevent the emotions from escaping. What if…what if he's trapped behind one of them? You said you analyze them, so you can enter the barriers, but various pieces can't get out." He was speaking faster, smiling to himself as he found more and more pieces fit. Then he noticed the fear that was in Spock's eyes, in his face, in the way his jaw was clenched and his fingers were tightening their hold on the brown tunic.

That was when he realized what it would mean to the boy. He was asking him to visit and possibly revisit memories and emotions that would be traumatizing. That had been traumatizing the first time. He knew then what had also caused Spock to choose death. He was terrified, quite literally out of his mind, and he had had no wish to face those memories alone.

"You won't be alone, Spock. I'll be with you, the entire time. Every step of the way, we'll face them together."

Spock looked up at him closely. "What you will see… What you will see has not been seen by anyone else. The deepest parts of my being. Everything that makes me what I am, what I could be lies behind those barriers. You are asking me to take you into my katra."

Jim blinked, and looked at him in quiet confusion, that slowly changed to dawning understanding and apprehension. "Yes…I suppose I am."

Spock was silent for a moment; the large brown eyes staring into Jim's blue ones, the quiet determination that slowly began to shine in their depths scrutinized.

There was a moment of silence, and then Spock stood up. Jim watched in quiet shock as a blank empty space appeared around them. But that wasn't what gained Kirk's attention. What gained Kirk's attention was the opaque barrier in front of him.

It was huge; towering up as far as his eye could reach, and to either side as well. The formidable wall was foreboding in its silence and presence, and Jim felt a small rush of fear curl his insides. Spock turned to look at him, his eyes piercing.

"Once we enter, it will be difficult to get back. The deeper in the harder it will be, the greater the possible effects. You might never be able to leave. Not as you are." His voice was quiet, his eyes holding quiet certainty. He didn't believe that Jim would follow through, and as always, that just made Kirk more determined.

Jim straightened up, looked up at the barrier, and then looked down to Spock. "Let's find your counterpart."

The wide eyes blinked, and Jim gave him a grin. "Anything I see will never be repeated to anyone except for you, and if you want me to, I can forget everything. I won't mention it again. I promise."

Spock stared at him some more, and then finally gave a nod. "Very well. I accept your promise."

Jim smiled at him, and both turned their attention to the barrier. Jim took a breath and looked down at Spock. Viewing the quiet uncertainty and fear he found in those eyes made Jim reach out a hand. Spock looked at it and then back up at him.

A tiny curve of a smile appeared on Spock's lips. A moment later his small hand latched onto Jim's sleeve and Jim's wrapped around the brown cloth in turn.

"Let's do this…"  
…

Christine walked over to where the doctor sat slumped in a chair, right between the two of the ones lying silently on the biobeds, peacefully almost. Chapel gave a soft smirk at that. She knew better by now. The two had been anything but peaceful. Large mental activity spikes had been running the nurses and the doctor ragged. They weren't entirely certain what were causing them, and they were large enough and infrequent enough to worry them.

Their vital signs had also been jumping all over the place. McCoy hadn't moved from that spot. Chapel had given up getting him to move. Currently he was asleep, and that was enough for her. Let him deal with the bad back he would get later. She unfurled a blanket and tucked it around him carefully. She took a moment to observe the lined face that appeared to have aged overnight. Stress curled McCoy's mouth and furrowed his eyebrows even in sleep. She looked at the two on the biobeds, eyes tracing the way they were positioned, and the little bit of their expressions that she could see.

Both of them looked equally stressed, both of them looked equally worried.

She took a breath and straightened their blankets, checking the bags of a nutrient mixture that was proper for both human and Vulcan systems to make sure of their levels and other things. She was unwilling to let them get so close only to starve.

With one last check on everyone she turned and began making her way to the door. Christine knew she wouldn't sleep that night. But she couldn't stay there anymore.  
….

Chekov stared into his still-full plate and gave a soft sigh. His expression was one of quiet misery; it had been for a while. Sulu sat across from him, staring into his own equally full plate. Only, unlike Chekov, he was picking at his food, twirling his fork through the contents, barely noticing that he was turning it to mush.

A quiet clearing of the throat next to them made the two of them look up. Nyota stood there, holding her own meal, her expression slightly hesitant. "Can I join you in your attempt to eat your food with your gaze?"

The two looked at each other and automatically smiled at her, scooting over so she could join. Neither smile reached their eyes, but Uhura didn't take offence. She didn't feel like smiling either.

"So…have you been to see them yet?" Sulu finally asked.

Nyota gave a brief shake of her head. "They…they're too still."

"That is when their minds aren't going haywire and driving McCoy to ruin," Sulu said softly.

The other two gave a tiny smile, but once again it didn't reach their eyes. They were silent, minds trailing along paths that had no end and no beginning, looping in quiet despair. Their Captain, their Commander were both trapped in some form of hell, and they had no idea what was happening.

"They vill be alright, von't they?" Of course it would be Chekov who would ask such a question. But there was something in his eyes, something that begged for them to tell him that it would be okay. That they would live, that life would go on.

Nyota paused, looking at Sulu quietly, and then both of them turned to look at him.

"If they don't, I'm going to take Jim's ship and blow it up," Nyota said simply. They paused for a moment, two pairs of wide eyes looking at Uhura before they finally burst out laughing. The one thing that Jim loved more than being a Captain was his ship. They knew for a fact that he would do anything to avoid that prospect. "You know… I think I'm going to go tell him that, too."

Nyota stood up decisively, taking her uneaten meal and walking to the recyclers. Sulu and Chekov locked eyes for a moment before standing up and following her quickly, shouting out a "Wait for us!"

Nyota smiled at them and they continued, a type of wary excitement at the prospect of doing something, however small, shining through.

They made it down the hall and just about to the turbolift, when the red alert claxon sounded, the red lights flashing.

There was a moment of stillness and shock, and then the ship shook at a sudden impact.

They lurched to the side of the hall, eyes wide, quickly supporting themselves and moving into the turbolift, calling out the level of the Bridge. Every person in the ship moved to their positions, moving hurriedly and with a kind of determination that would have made their Captain proud.

Sulu knew for a fact that whatever was attacking their ship was going to be in for one hell of a surprise. They were in between Jim's crew and the only thing that could save their Captain and First Officer.

They would not survive.


	6. The

_Peeps, consider yourself warned, this is where it begins getting insane. If it wasn't already. I obviously do not own 'The Raven' by Edgar Allen Poe, but this site seems to have fun with 'DISCLAIM THAT THIS IS NOT YOURS' so...there it is. I don't own it... Or Star Trek for that manner...  
..._

Spock tightened his hold on Jim's sleeve and led the two of them forward, reaching his free hand out to press against the barrier. There was a moment of silence and stillness, and then the opaqueness of it faded into a clear transparency, and a small bubble of noise spread. Jim narrowed his eyes at it, trying to peer into it, but there was such a flurry of movement and a very blue light shone through it before he could truly process that he was unable to. Spock transferred his hold from his sleeve to his wrist, his hand a fever hot band around his skin and then pressed that hand onto the barrier.

Jim flinched at the cold of the wall, the feeling of ice contrasting with Spock's natural heat. Then the barrier began to give, and he pressed his hand through it. His eyes widened slightly, staring at his hand that continued to vanish through it.

"It recognizes you now. You shall be able to get through this one and all the rest, should you will it hard enough," Spock said quietly. A moment later he pushed Jim's hand further in, leading up his arm, his elbow, to his shoulder. Jim took a deep breath, and with a quiet look at the smaller Spock next to him, who showed no sign of wishing to cross that barrier, took a step through.

It was like plunging himself in ice, and he came into the other side shaking and sputtering with cold, his breath coming out in white billows. Spock still hadn't come through and he took a look at the slightly stiff and numb looking hand wrapped around his wrist and realized why. If he was someone from a desert planet, he wouldn't appreciate being plunged into an ice bath either.

He hesitated for a moment and crouched down before pulling Spock through. The little Vulcan had a look on his face of abject misery and his teeth were chattering, and his nose a strange sort of blue before Jim pulled him into his chest, rubbing at the cloth-covered limbs and trying to warm him up quickly. A moment later Spock let out a large sneeze and relaxed, Jim, who had felt that on his shoulder, gave a brief disgusted sort of sound and pushed Spock away from him.

Spock had the decency to look apologetic, but there was a hint of amusement in the twist of the lips and a small raise of an eyebrow. "Thank you."

"No problem, I'll be your snot rag anytime," Jim grumbled, an actual smile curling his lips.

"As you say."

Jim finally looked around, and his eyes widened. He was in a memory, but it wasn't the kind he thought it would be. Instead of some dark and deadly secret, he saw a Spock even younger, likely much younger, than the one next to him, lying in a bed, a woman sitting next to him.

The first thought he had was that she was beautiful, her auburn hair pulled into a tighter bun than he would like, but her face and her eyes were gorgeous and held a type of serenity and love in them that astounded him. The second thought was the realization that the woman sitting there must be Amanda, Spock's mother. The third thought was that he had not only thought of one of his best friend's mother as absolutely gorgeous, he had thought one of his best friend's _dead_ mother as absolutely gorgeous. His face turned red.

Spock looked up at him quietly, looking for what could have made Jim turn such a color before dismissing it quietly. Jim desperately tried to focus on something, anything else, and that was when what she was saying caught up to his brain. She had a book open on her lap and she was quietly reading from it.

She was reading to Spock from 'Alice in Wonderland'. Jim laughed, his mind trying to process the thought of a _Vulcan_ being read to from one of the most illogical books known to man. It was Spock's turn to flush, his ears turning a remarkable shade of green. "That…that's adorable." Jim finally said, smiling at the scene, and then blinked, registering the warm feelings of _love tenderness amusement curiosity confusion_ that he felt choking the very air he breathed.

It was then when he realized what exactly it meant to be Vulcan. Any emotion was seen as dangerous, and Jim felt a flash of pity at realizing that even memories like this one had to be hidden away. He looked down at Spock to see a small curl of a smile on that mouth, a vacant sort of expression in his eyes. Jim considered for a moment, and then remembered his meld with the older Vulcan. Was it possible that the feelings and emotions he felt in regards to this scene were even more amplified for Spock?

He soon decided that was a very logical hypothesis and ducked down next to Spock. "You really loved your mother, didn't you?"

"…I did."

Jim nodded, looking at him, looking at the beautiful lady quietly reading her son a bedtime story and his mind flashed back to a need to gain the captaincy, tense and heated words spoken to an older Spock.

"_You never loved her." _

He stiffened uncomfortably, and nodded, standing up. There was a door in the far corner of the room, and Spock led him to it. When the door opened it revealed a different portion of the house, only the scene contained the same two people. Spock was sitting on the stool, eyes focused as he watched his mother walk around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The emotions were the same; only the curiosity and the confusion were removed, replaced by familiarity. It was amazingly beautiful.

Jim felt his heart clench at watching it. He had never had a mother; this scene…this scene was almost dreadful in its familiarity to the small boy. He was jealous. He was unspeakably jealous, and he was angry with himself for feeling such.

The memories continued, each filled with some such domesticity that made him feel his lack of a real mother harshly. It filled his heart with pain. He watched Spock in each of them, watching his expressions with such bitterness in his heart that it made him feel sick with himself. How could he begrudge this boy his mother? How could he do such a thing?

But the thought of what he had lacked, the thought of what he would never have sat with him and rested in his stomach like a lead weight. The next door Spock opened however, opened to an entirely different time. In this one, Spock was of Academy age, and he was talking to his mother over subspace transmission.

These continued, and Jim wondered, almost horribly, if Spock's memories of his mother were the only times in his life that he had felt truly happy. The thought of that _loss_, that horror that Spock must have gone through when he lost his mother hit home, and he felt even more sickened with himself. He was begrudging someone their only point of happiness, and his heart went cold.

Then the memories focused on the _Enterprise_, memories with Jim, with the crew, and Jim began feeling even more sick with himself. He realized what he was in, he realized why the barrier was just ice, he was in all the happy memories that he had had, and Spock had very few of them. Very few and far between, and he felt an almost painful sort of kinship with the Vulcan. This was something they both shared.

"There is one more door to go," Spock finally said, quietly, indicating it silently.

Jim was shocked to notice that while the door opened to an entirely different time, the scene was still the same as the first one they had entered. Spock blinked in confusion, and he realized that this wasn't the right memory. Then the words Amanda was saying registered in his mind, and he felt his heart begin thudding against his ribs.

"But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,  
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;  
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking  
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -  
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore  
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing  
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;  
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining  
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,  
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,  
_She_ shall press, ah, nevermore!"

There was a moment of silence, and then Amanda looked up at them, two piercing blue eyes meeting theirs and a smile that was much too wide for her face stretched across it. "She's not coming back." Her voice hissed between her teeth, an expression of hatred sliding across it.

Spock's eyes widened and he slammed the door shut.

"She'll never come back." They whirled, eyes focused on the woman who had been sitting there. The bed was soaked in green blood, the Spock that had been in the memory slashed to pieces. Amanda's hands were soaked in blood. "Your joy is gone."

Spock threw the door open to reveal a memory between the two of them, Spock and Jim as Captain and First Officer. There were feelings of _friendship camaraderie platonic affection_ attached to the memory. But there was also _shame_. He didn't understand why. But when the Jim in the memory regarded them with an expression that would never be seen on the real Jim's face Jim realized he would find out.

"The only one that you feel any form of friendship for you are _ashamed_ of. Yet you still feel as though you can drag him through your memories. That you can drag him through your pain and hope he'll not abandon you. You know he will though. Or you'll shove him out. You always do, you know you're too afraid. It's not the Vulcan way to have _friends_."

Spock slammed the door again and backed away, his eyes wide when hands covered with green and copper-smelling blood gripped his mouth, and made him give a muffled shout, and Jim turned around. He was desperately trying to forget what had been said, he needed to concentrate. But the sight of the young Spock being clutched in the arms of a very viciously amused-looking Amanda drove it right out of his mind.  
…

It was one thing to say that their enemies were going down, it was quite another when the ship had recently been gutted due to an attack by an almost insanely vicious Romulan War Bird.

Scotty had pieced it together as well as he could, but it was a fight that was almost the end of them. Almost the end of them, it _was_ the end of their enemies.

But it did not change the fact that their ship was now unable to enter warp.

McCoy had strapped the two down when the red alert sounded. When the news reached him that it would take even longer for them to reach Vulcan and reach the help that Jim and Spock so desperately needed, he sank to his knees next to the door.

Christine found him like that later, his face in his hand and his shoulders slumped. She immediately walked over to him, and helped him up. He wasn't crying, but he was trembling, and she didn't like the rings around his eyes, the lines that were etched into his face deeply. He looked like death warmed over.. She took him to his office, sitting him behind his desk and took out the bourbon she wasn't supposed to know about.

She poured him a few fingers full and sat it in front of him. "Drink." One was nothing, she knew this. She allowed it.

McCoy did so without question, pulling a face at the burn but ignoring it. She knew right then and there that he was more out of sorts than she had thought. He was the type that believed that alcohol was to be savored. He had even grumbled at Jim for doing something of that matter before.

She pulled the chair around so she could sit facing him, and waited for a moment, staring at him with calm blue eyes. "McCoy, it will be fine. We'll get there. They'll be fine."

Leonard looked up at her after drawing in a shaky breath. "Christine… By the time we get there it will be too late, and we can't contact Vulcan."

Christine's eyes widened. "What?"

"Communications are down. They had to have someone come down here so they could tell me. We're going to be too late, Christine. We're going to be too late and I'm going to lose both of them."

Chapel felt her heart plummet. The bond between the three men was something everyone noticed. They were friends, they were brothers, they were family, and one of them was alone, locked out of whatever the other two were struggling with.

She paused for a moment, her fingers gripping her knees as she thought, trying to think of something, anything to say, anything that would make it better. She could think of nothing.

Chapel took a breath, and scooted forward, reaching out and pulling him into a hug.

McCoy was stiff, tense, and then she felt him relax. For just a moment he soaked up her warmth, and finally hugged her back.

It was at this time that a further brain wave spike made the biobeds go off, and they separated. McCoy didn't look quite so ragged, and they returned to work looking like nothing had ever happened.


	7. Crew

_Here we go people, more fun stuff. Hope you enjoy, please do review!_  
...

The fingers of the not-Amanda's right hand that were clamped around Spock's mouth extended, digging into the softness of his cheek, four spots of blood gushing sluggishly from the puncture wounds in the flesh. Jim watched with eyes that spit hatred, but also glittered with fear. Her teeth peeked out of too-thin lips, a slow smile dragging its way across them, red liquid trickling slowly from her face as the smile stretched the skin out of proportion. Jim watched in quiet despair and desperation as with each red drop of liquid onto Spock's hair, the boy's eyes went wider, and he felt his heart clench.

"Let him go."

"'Let him go'? Oh, Kirk, I'm not all that sure that I want to."

"Do it. You'll only be given one chance."

"One chance before what, what can you possibly do?"

Jim's eyes narrowed, his face locked in an expression of hatred, but he didn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. Should he make a move, Spock's face would easily be ripped from his skull, and that thing knew it. The one who wore Amanda's face was even drumming her fingers on Spock's shoulder lightly, a slight smile on her face.

"What do you want from him?" he finally asked in desperation.

Amanda's face pulled into an even wider sneer, the red blood long having trickled into her mouth, staining her teeth. "Nothing."

"Then why-"

"Kirk, there's no reason to ruin the surprise. Not yet. I might as well make it simple and state that I'm not going to tell you who I am, or what my goal is. But, I will tell you what I'm going to do to your crew when I kill this little shit and take over his body. I'm going to take him, and I'm going to sabotage your ship from the inside out. I'm going to kill them one by one, and use the genius that is contained in this body and mind to make it all look like accidents. I'm going to tear them all apart from the inside out. I'm going to choke the life out of the Doctor, and Captain, do you know what the best part is? I'm going to make you watch."

The laughter that bubbled forth from that mouth was horrible in the fact that that mouth was more accustomed to laughter that was cheerful, laughter that was pure. It rose and fell in a cackling wave, and Jim was reminded of every evil villain he had ever seen in any movie he had watched. But what the movies never showed was exactly how much that laughter boiled in your blood, how much it made your scalp prickle and your hands twitch. The way Spock's ears perked and his eyes clenched showed that better than anything could have. But Jim didn't do anything other than glare, silently wishing that that thing would burst into flames.

That thought was like someone had jumpstarted his brain. He glared harder, imagining for her dress to catch fire, but Amanda only let out one of those laughs. "Is that really the best you can do? Your little tricks won't work on me, Kirk. Not when I'm the one in control. However… I can do it to you."

Everything was still for a moment, and then a pain lit up deep in his gut, and he doubled over, a short grunt of pain leaving his mouth. It felt like something was eating him from the inside out, tearing him apart. He wrapped his hands around his abdomen in desperation, letting out a hiss of pain. He couldn't see, he couldn't think, his hands tightened and he curled into the fetal position on the ground, hot tears of pain beginning to slide down his face. He refused to scream.

A flash of pain made him curl up tighter, a gasp choking out between his teeth. He couldn't breathe. He knew he was going to start hyperventilating, he knew he was going to die, and he couldn't help but feel like he had failed. Some help he was.

He was barely aware of a shriek of pain that wasn't his own outside of his own pain. That shriek turned into loud vile cursing, and just like that the pain was gone. Next minute he was being pulled to his feet, and he stumbled desperately, trying to force himself upright, trying to help the one pulling him along by moving.

He could still feel the echo of that agony tearing him apart.

They rushed through the door, and found themselves in another memory, Amanda once again screaming at them, but Jim noticed that her hand had blood gushing out of it. Each memory they ran through was filled with a laughing Amanda or Jim or Scotty or Sulu or Chekov and in each and every memory one of them tore into Spock, and one by one his memories were blackened. He threw one final door open, and they were once again in blackness, another barrier towering in front of them. Jim desperately forced himself to breathe, unable to believe that he was still alive. That they had escaped. He sat down, placing his head between his knees and breathing heavily, trying to gain control.

The sound of vomiting made him look up so fast he had whiplash. Spock was on his hands and knees, retching horribly into the blackness around them. Jim focused on the color and the smell and his eyes widened. That blood from her hand…

"You bit her…"

Spock spat futilely one last time before looking up. His mouth was stained red, blood trickling out before he wiped his mouth quickly, looking absolutely disgusted with both himself, and the flavor. Jim blinked, and just stared at him, both highly flattered that he had done something that went against everything a Vulcan stood for, and absolutely horrified. Green blood had trickled down from his right cheek, mixing slightly with the red, smearing across his cheek to dribble down his chin. One of the nastiest uses of Christmas colors ever.

"Spock…" he said softly and moved a little closer, trying to find something he could do. Spock flinched slightly, looking ashamed, and Jim blinked, trying to find out what could have caused that.

"It was…hurting you, Jim. It could have killed you."

Jim realized then that he felt like he had to defend himself, and reached out, blinking slightly before looking at his hand. A moment later the feeling of a warm wet cloth filled his hand and he grinned at it, before beginning to gently dab at the bloody wounds on the boy's face and wipe the blood from the small Vulcan's mouth.

"It's okay. That was…that was very brave of you," Jim said softly. "Thank you." He smiled then. "You seem to have a habit for saving my life even when you're really small."

Spock looked up at him, and his eyes held something unidentifiable in them, and then they widened. Jim stared at him in confusion, and then Spock made a brief aborted motion. He almost seemed to want to reach up to his collar, but stopped, instead he gave a short spasm, and gagged. Jim realized with the dawning of panic that he wasn't breathing. Instead he almost seemed to be choking on something.  
….

McCoy and Chapel hurried over to the two, eyes focused on the readings before they had even reached them, McCoy ordering what he needed from the other nurses. They moved as an efficient team, trying to calm heart rate, respiration, adrenaline levels. While it had never been overly successful, there was enough of a drop to make it worth it. They didn't know what would happen if they didn't.

But then the doors whooshed open, and one of the nurses looked up, letting out a gasp as what she was seeing caught up with her brain. McCoy didn't look up, he was a trained doctor, nothing save extreme bodily harm or dismemberment would split him from his patients, not unless someone else came up with something worse. But when Chapel took the instruments from him, automatically hypoing Jim with the proper drug (which he was not allergic to) McCoy knew that something else had come up.

He looked up, and locked eyes on the other biobed where a sight met his eyes that almost made his heart stop.

Scotty lay there, his red uniform ripped and scorched, blood and burns staining his face and running down his torso. He was unconscious, but that didn't hide the pain on his face. It also failed to hide the heavy bags under his eyes, and the way that face was lined with stress.

"Shit."

There was a flurry of movement, nurses broke away to grab the equipment that he would need, another was running preliminary scans over him, and yet another was talking to a shell-shocked red-shirted engineer. Judging from the blood stains that covered him, with no hint of a wound on him, he had been the one who carried Scotty to the sickbay. McCoy was admittedly a bit peeved that he had carried him due to the fact that he didn't know about any internal injuries that could have been compromised. But there was no help for it. It would have taken too long to send someone to let them know. He damned the communications system being knocked out for the eightieth time before McCoy moved forward quickly, listening to their readings.

Internal bleeding and bruising, multiple fractures, a mild concussion, second and third degree burns, all of which had been compromised and aggravated with the move to sickbay. McCoy wanted to rant and rave, he wanted to shout at the man for moving him. He did none of that. Instead he set to compartmentalizing that aspect of him away, leaving him with nothing more or less than what he needed in order to save Scotty.

The Lieutenant Commander coughed, blood splattering his chest, and a nurse moved into position to clear his airway. As time wore on and they fought harder to save him, more and more people moved away from Spock and Kirk, their thoughts on someone that they could affect. That they could save.

They were deep in saving Scotty when Spock's biobed went off louder and stronger than before. Chapel broke off from the rest, walking over to see what could be the problem, and her eyes focused on the fact that he was choking. She realized with a kind of suppressed horror that he was choking on his own vomit.

She hurriedly moved over to him, desperately moving Jim's hand enough to begin to clear his airway. Bile trickled out, and she tilted him more into a recovery position. Letting it come out, letting him breathe again. As soon as she was certain that he was no longer vomiting or in danger of choking she went to move back to Scotty, but then noticed something else. That vomit had mixed with his own green blood, running down his face.

Her eyes reflected nothing more than the strictest form of confusion. But then McCoy shouted for something else and she rushed over to help.

When Scotty was finally out of the danger zone and was resting quietly, McCoy's shirt stained with about as much red as Scotty was himself they fell back, setting up alarms for when he woke. Chapel took that time to move McCoy over to look Spock over. He took a look at the source of that blood, the both of them cleaning the bedding as he thought.

He sat down to stare deeply at that face, looking at the wounds and trying to figure out what the hell they could be. They were deep, digging into his cheek as though something had stabbed into it.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and then widened, focusing on Jim's hand and in particular his fingers. He turned his eyes to the wounds, and blinked before letting out a soft curse.

"What is it, Doctor?" Chapel was still in professional mode, and McCoy ignored her for a moment, taking his own hand and holding it near where those holes were, not touching, but hovering over it. He gave another curse.

"What is it?" Her voice was rather tart, unwilling to be ignored.

"Do you see this? It's like someone gripped his face and tried to tear it off," he finally said softly. Chapel's eyes focused on it as well, and her mouth dropped slightly. "These things that are happening to them…it's obvious that it's a reaction to something that happens in their minds. This…this has to be something that happened in there. But…Jim, Jim would never do this. There… Dammit, this sounds crazy as hell, but there has to be someone else in there."

"But how could that be possible?"

"I don't know, dammit. I don't know who, I don't know what, I don't know how, but I know that it's there, and I know that it's unfriendly. I also know that both Jim and Spock are stuck with it," he finally snarled out, his accent thickening in his anger.

Chapel sat back, her eyes flickering over Jim and Spock's faces, searching for any sign of what was going on in there. Hoping to be able to see that they were winning, that they were beating back whatever the hell it was. She saw nothing.  
…..

Scotty woke up to see two ringed hazel eyes staring down at him, the wrinkles in that face prominent with worry and stress, what looked like five days worth of stubble on his face. "Glad to see you're finally among the livin', you idiot."

Scotty let out a cough, and tried to sit up. "How long I been out, Doctor?"

"Lay your ass back down, you ain't goin' anywhere for a bit."

Scotty glared up at McCoy when he was pushed back, but McCoy's glare was even more prominent. In fact it was something Scotty had to admit was almost terrifying.

"Look, McCoy, I have ta'…"

"You don't have to do nothin'. The only thing you have to do is recover."

"But Doctor, the warp drive…the ship… If I don' do anythin'…"

"What, you mean like blow yourself up?" McCoy asked with a raised eyebrow.

Scotty stared up at him with wide eyes, "I didna'…"

"Scotty, you've run yourself ragged. How long as it been since you've gotten any sleep? How long has it been since you last ate?"

The Scotsman didn't make eye contact, instead looking at anything other than the doctor.

"Luckily for us both I don't need to ask. Your stomach was empty, Scotty. You've been runnin' yourself on empty for two days at the least; you've been goin' even longer without any proper sleep. It's no wonder you blundered that so badly. You scared your Engineers I hope you know. Absolutely terrified them. One minute you were making some adjustments to the warp drive, next minute you were being blown across the room. You're just lucky you trained 'em so well that they were able to stop it from deterioratin' further."

Scotty wasn't looking at him, his eyes focused on his toes, the blue unfocused.

"I know you're worried about the Captain, I know you're worried about the Commander and you want to help them, but killin' yourself ain't worth it, Scotty. You need to sleep, you need to eat."

"Like ye've been doin'?" Scotty said softly, looking up at him finally at that.

McCoy paused, and then gave a slight smile. "Touché. We're a great pair of fools, Scotty."

Scot nodded, a snickering smile on his mouth as well, and then turned his head. His eyes locked on Jim and Spock next to him, and his fingers tightened in his bedding. "Any change?"

"Aside from the fact that there's something in Spock's mind preyin' on 'em both… Nothin'. They're still completely out of it."

"Do ye think they'll be okay?"

McCoy was silent for a moment, staring at the two of them and let out a sigh. "They're the best Command duo in the 'Fleet. They're the equivalent of family to each other. If anyone can survive whatever shit is going on, it's them. Jim. Spock. They can, they will. I suppose the only thing we can do for now is have faith."

"Faith's all well and good, Doc; but I wan' somethin' a little more tangible."

McCoy laughed, and grinned at him. "Don't we all. Seriously though, I'm not tellin' you to stop workin'. Just so long as yer properly healed," he growled, and Scotty gave him a grin.

"Only if ye promise to get yourself a decent meal and a good night's sleep," Scotty answered.

McCoy glared at him. "Now who's supposed to be the Doctor here, me or you?"

"Well, it ain't my fault ya can't take care of yourself proper," Scotty said with a grin.

The two of them grumbled back and forth for a while, until McCoy realized what he was doing. He hadn't felt more relaxed since the Hobgoblin had been sitting with him in Jim's quarters, the two of them bantering back and forth and working to make the Captain laugh. He paused for a moment, and then gave Scotty a quiet smile. "Thanks."

"No problem Doc', but do take a shower. Ya stink somethin' awful."

McCoy cuffed him and laughed, but went off to do just that, after making sure Chapel stayed to make sure Scotty didn't try and run off.

He felt like he could finally relax.


	8. ,

_Terribly sorry it took so long peeps, this chapter decided to begin its days on the computer screen by banging my head and laughing at me while screaming that 'You can't write me, you can't write me". Yes, my chapters start out as very immature. It is very annoying I can certainly tell you that much. That said, I am still not all that satisfied, but I do hope it is worth it anyway... Anyway, hope you enjoy.  
_

_Replies to anonymous: ShatFat-Glad you are enjoying, and we'll see about the sandwich/work plan I suppose..._

_AyaMarr- Yep, he's smart like that :P_

_And the Anonymous with no name- Sickening is always fun :P Glad you meant it as a good thing._  
...

Kirk sat with Spock's back pressed to his chest, Jim whispering encouragements in Spock's pointed ear, hand pressing to the small boy's chest, feeling him breathe. It had been horrible, watching as the small Vulcan desperately tried to breathe. Unable to gasp in air, his eyes screwed shut and tears of pain sliding down an increasingly pale face.

Jim held him close for a few more moments. When Spock finally relaxed, the gasps turning into slow deep breathing, his grip on Jim's pant leg slackening, Jim felt his own muscles relax. He hadn't been aware of how tense he was until he felt the aches. "You okay?"

"I have been better…"

Jim laughed, and hugged him a little tighter before letting go fully. Spock turned around to face him, and Jim ignored the slight tear trails as Spock wiped them away. "That was…that was a moment. What exactly happened?"

"I believe that my physical body began to choke on something…"

"Like what?" Jim asked, and then paused. "Wait, are our physical bodies affected by what happens here?"

"I believe that is the case, yes."

Jim looked at the wounds in Spock's face, his eyes narrowing. "Then Bones will have figured it out. They'll know that there's something else in here." Then his eyes widened. "Why didn't you do something like this to yourself before?"

Spock looked at him directly, "Do you think I did not try?"

That simple statement made Jim close his eyes. "No, no… I'm sure you tried everything you could. But why would it allow you now?"

"You are here. There is no other reason for it to keep itself hidden."

"But how is it going to do what it's planning…"

Spock looked up at him and began talking steadily. "Doctor McCoy...Jim, Jim is gone, Doctor. He saved my mind from the creature, but he was unable to survive the strain. I am…sorry, Leonard. I do not know what to say. He… risked his life to save me, and I will forever hold that on my conscience. But the creature is gone."

Jim stared at him, his eyes widening slightly as what Spock was saying clicked. Spock met them steadily. "I trust you understand how complex this is. That should he present it in this way, you will be unable to prove otherwise. He will leave me alone, and you will be left to watch. The only way to truly stop it is if we destroy it. But Jim… Do not trade your life for mine."

Jim looked away. "I can't make any promises."

Spock let out a sigh, and nodded. "So be it." His voice was despondent and Jim felt a twinge of sadness for making him worried, but he would never live with himself if he didn't. "Shall we go?" He stood up, indicating the barrier with his head; Jim sighed, and then nodded.

"Alright, here we go…"

Spock led him over to it; the light behind the barrier was a red color with such a strange hue that Jim couldn't quite place it. Spock reached out, taking his wrist again and moving Jim's hand to it. Jim realized with a flash of apprehension that the barrier was so hot that it conflicted with Spock's own natural heat. Spock noticed the way he tensed, and hurriedly shoved his hand through it.

Jim felt like his hand was on fire. He bit his lip, his eyes screwing tightly shut as the pain jolted down his arm, refusing to scream. He took a breath and then pulled his gold shirt up higher, looking down at Spock once before covering his head with the cloth.

"You look ridiculous."

Jim laughed, "Yeah, well, I need to protect my face from getting burned. You just don't mess with beauty like mine."

"Whatever you say, Jim."

"Hey, I'll have you know that I'm-" At that moment Spock jerked him straight through the barrier, and Jim let out a yowl, jerking his shirt down to glare at the small boy looking up at him innocently.

"Oh, don't give me that look! That was hot; I mean…what the hell could…" His eyes caught up with his brain then, and he looked around in absolute amazement. "What is this place?"

The space was vast; recesses in the floor that were almost like bowls were everywhere, sunk into the ground. In each and every one of them stood a small Vulcan, and all of them were involved in answering the questions that were posed to them. As Jim began listening harder his eyes widened. "Damn, you guys don't cut back when it comes to education… No wonder you're a fricken' genius… Which one is you?"

Spock began leading him through it, Jim turning his head back and forth to try and get as big a feel for it as possible. He noticed then that he was beginning to pick up on more emotions the farther back he got. It was then that he noticed that the questions were getting progressively harder as they went along.

The feelings continued strengthening, _pride satisfaction success a deep and focused concentration _and finally they came to one bowl in particular, towards the back, where the emotions seemed to originate from. Jim crouched down slightly to watch and listen closely to each question and each answer. A slow smile stretched the corners of his mouth as he listened, watching the boy standing there in amazement as he answered question after question. Finally it stopped and a voice stated that accuracy was at 100%.

Jim let out a low whistle, eyes bright with both amusement and pride. "Wow…that's pretty damn impressive, my young first officer."

"Thank you."

He stood up then, and looked around as the rest of them began filing out, Spock wasn't moving, the both of them watching as the Spock that had been in the 'learning bowl' climbed out. It was then that Jim noticed three pairs of footsteps getting progressively closer. He turned around, blue eyes catching sight of three boys. Each of them were quite a bit older than Spock appeared to be, and each of them bore the signs of a Vulcan that was decidedly unhappy with something, and also preparing himself for some form of mischief.

The Spock in the memory locked eyes with the tallest one as the boy stepped farther forward. The emotions that were a part of the memory changed to quiet _apprehension_ and _curiosity_, but there was also such an unbelievably sweet pang of _hope_ that it made Jim's heart swell with it.

"Spock, it seems that you have managed yet again to advance a level."

Spock merely inclined his head, not opening his mouth. The hope was stronger then, and Jim found himself leaning forward slightly, involuntarily wishing that whatever the boy hoped for so strongly would be so.

"My father says it is a failure of the program that one who is half-human is able to advance so far in a Vulcan system."

Just like that, the hope was crushed, and the gaping absence of it made Jim fall back slightly, his eyes reflecting the despair that the rest of the world fell into.

"As it is your work ethic that directly reflects precisely how far you advance in this system, it would be logical that that would be a reflection on your own shortcomings. Should you wish to advance, I suggest that you should work harder." Spock answered tonelessly, in their quietly shocked silence he walked away.

Jim gave a snort, his expression glaring. There were no doors to enter this time, instead a brief pause before it opened to another day. The same three boys came, and this time their insults were darker. Spock merely stated it was their second attempt to illicit an emotional response, calmly contradicted their statement, and once again walked off.

So it continued, and with each and every one of them, Jim's face grew angrier. His hands were balled into fists, and he realized what he was in. Bigotry, their hatred of his very existence, and growing ever stronger a feeling of hopelessness, he wanted nothing more than to pound each and every face he saw in, wishing to find a way to defend the Vulcan that would make absolutely no sign of the pain he was feeling.

Then it continued, and this time the ones who came forward looked a bit more certain of themselves. They had always been experimenting with his emotions, Jim noticed. Heading it like he was a science experiment and not a person, and Jim wished for nothing more or less than the messiest of all deaths, either that or for someone to smack them upside the head and talk some sense into them. Violently.

Spock looked up slightly when they approached, and Jim felt the familiar swirl of hurt and dread. "I presume you have prepared new insults for today."

"Affirmative." Jim had to admit that as ridiculously formal as Vulcan bullying was, it was nothing more than ridiculously effective.

"This is your thirty-fifth attempt to illicit an emotional response from me," he stated, but was interrupted.

"You are neither human nor Vulcan and therefore have no place in this universe."

"Look, he has human eyes, they look sad, don't they?"

"Perhaps an emotional response requires physical stimuli." The next minute he had walked forward and shoved the smaller boy back. Jim tensed, and then he continued talking. "He is a traitor you know, your father? For marrying _her_, that human whore," the boy finished.

Jim's breath hissed out through his teeth, his eyes flaming, and then the young Spock reacted. Jim watched in almost shocked disbelief as he let out a cry, shoving the boy much harder, sending him toppling into the learning bowl. He jumped down into it, and began hitting every inch of the boy he could reach.

Jim immediately began shouting encouragements, including, but not limited to, "HIT HIM HARDER! YEAH, HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH? NOT SO NICE WHEN IT'S YOU, IS IT?"

It was then that the emotions that were attached to the memory came through to him, accompanied by the expression on Spock's face. His Spock, the one that he was supposed to protect. _Anger pain rage disgust and hate hate hate_, but then it got worse. He punched the boy hard, and there was a loud crack accompanied by a loud cry of pain, and the emotions vanished. In one moment he was purely and truly Vulcan, before _fear_ _apology_ _realization_ _dread shame_ flooded in and Jim felt like he was going to be sick.

When he looked at Spock and made eye contact, reading the shame and sadness in his eyes he sighed. "You do know that you did the right thing, yes?"

"I broke his nose…how can that be right?"

Jim looked at him, looked at the boy, read the emotions and sighed. "Why must you put me in these situations?"

Spock blinked.

"Look…violence isn't good…"

"Strange that you would say that, considering your track record consists of more brawls and missions fallen into violence than any other captain."

Jim winced, and then laughed, "Yeah well, this is a 'do as I say, not as I do' kinda thing…"

"I take it that is a human concept, it is highly illogical."

"True, but still… Spock, it isn't right to beat his face in, but it's not right for them to do such a thing to you. Also…I have to ask, did they stop?"

"They did not."

"…Oh…"

Spock looked up at him with amusement written in every line of his face. "It is alright, Jim. You do not need to console me. I am aware of what I did and the repercussions. I also do not regret it."

Jim laughed, and smiled at him, "Good thing too, I'm not much of a role-model."

"Indeed."

That said, Spock grasped Jim's sleeve, and began leading him out of the group of memories that were connected to the learning center.

Spock was older in this memory, but from what he understood still a teenager. Likely no older or younger than seventeen. He was standing in front of a panel of what looked like judges, and Jim thought wildly that he was in trouble for something. Then he realized what they were saying.

He listened closely as they told Spock that he had been accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy. Jim was honestly confused, but then one of them continued talking, and referred to Amanda as a disadvantage. He watched in smug satisfaction as Spock declined the offer, calmly told him that he would not be attending, and gave them one of the closest equivalents to a Vulcan version of "Die in a fire."

Jim was honestly glad to leave the place behind, but when he set foot onto Academy grounds and he watched it start up again, he immediately began making mental notes on who exactly had the gall to do such a thing to his First. He also began planning what he would do to them.

Spock merely watched him with an expression of amusement on his face. "There is no need to protect me."

"Yeah, well… It's not right. They're not supposed to be like that. It's bullshit what they're doing. Xenophobia is not only something that they can't afford, it's wrong. They're Starfleet officers."

"Actually, no they are not. You recall that I was a professor?"

Jim blinked, and then grinned. "You skipped?"

"I did."

"Not surprising. I bet they weren't happy."

"They were not."

So it continued, and in each and every one of them Jim had nothing more or less than a deep gnawing feeling of annoyance and disgust forming in the pit of his stomach. There was also a feeling of quiet, barely-formed pity. He knew with certainty that Spock would not wish to be pitied. He was nothing short of amazed that Spock had managed to retain the amount of respect and pride in himself that he had.

He listened to the words of Half-Breed, Worthless, Freak, Abomination, and many more, feeling the emotions that grew and swelled with the words. Then they slowly ebbed. There were no feelings of hurt, merely resignation.

That hurt much worse than listening to what they were saying.

The scene shifted again, and Jim realized with a quiet sense of dread exactly what this was. He saw himself, wearing his red cadet's uniform, addressing the board, and requesting to face his accuser. He felt his stomach twist as he listened to their conversation, the fact that he could feel the emotions associated with it made it worse. There was _irritation_ and _resentment_, this was true, but there was also the _wish-to-instruct _and_ patience_, but what really made him feel ill was the underlying trickle of _empathy_.

Then came the moment that he was dreading with every fibre of his being. He watched with near despair as his past walked up to Spock, and began attacking what he now realized was something that had always been a spot of nothing more than abject pain. As Spock snapped and began hitting the young Cadet-turned-Captain, Jim watched passively.

Then Spock's grip changed, and a loud _**crack**_ echoed in the silence. The older Spock looked down at Jim's limp body in his grasp, and slowly turned around to regard both of them with a raised eyebrow.

"Oops."  
…

McCoy entered sickbay in higher spirits than he had been in a long time. He was both surprised and pleased to see Nyota, Sulu, and Chekov sitting around Scotty's bedside, the four of them talking and joking. Jim and Spock were kept in the circle for some reason, and once in a while, one of them would turn and address the Captain and First Officer.

Nyota was in the middle of one such address. "I swear to you, Captain, that if you don't get up sometime soon, I'll blow up your ship."

"No ya don't, lassie! I'll stop her before she does such a horrible thing, Cap'n!" Scotty said loudly, looking at her angrily and making Chekov laugh.

"No you won't, you're stuck in sickbay until the good Doctor releases you, and I'll make sure he doesn't get a chance."

"Threatenin' my patients, are we?" McCoy drawled, an eyebrow rising.

Nyota jumped, and the rest of them turned to regard him with guilty looks on their faces, that soon turned into wide smiles. "Nice to see you too, Doctor, you feeling better?"

"A bit, Scotty…" He handed him a sandwich that he had been carrying with him and the Engineer's mouth split into a wide smile. "Not too fast. We don't want you getting' sick."

Scotty laughed. "You're a saint!" he cried out, taking a bite.

"You get crumbs in my sickbay, and we'll see who's the saint."

"Whatever ye say, but I'm pretty sure you're the biggest softy this side of the Galaxy."

"Hmph. Make that release in two days instead of this afternoon."

"What?"

The rest of them burst out laughing, McCoy's smug expression in stark contrast with Scotty's look of horror.

It was a good day.


	9. 9 To

_Here we go peeps, sorry about the wait. More anonymous replies..._

_six23- Hey, no fair. You broke my code. Not. If I say it I mean it :P That said, I can't give you much credit aside from a loss of 'cheesy word capitalization and ellipses.' No offense, I'm merely rather proud of it, ha ha. Although I like ellipses. They will keep popping up. Nowhere near Warrior level...but still. See, there's some now! However, I am glad to have blown you away. I shall continue to make that a point. _

_ShatFat- As difficult as the subject may be that's really no excuse. Glad you are still enjoying, as for the chapter title being ','. Click on the drop down, and you'll see that it all makes a sentence. So, yes, it was supposed to. Currently the sentence reads as 'Understanding what you mean to the crew,'...and it was supposed to be another 'to' here, but due to the fact is a dweeb and won't let me have duplicate chapter titles (the nerve, I should be able to do that if I want to) it will continue from there. I'm considering changing one of the titles to another ','... doesn't read as well as I hoped. _  
...

Jim reached to the side, his hand gripping the small Spock's shoulder as he pulled him back behind him, making sure he was between it and him before letting go, his heart beating a staccato rhythm against his ribs. His eyes ghosted over the mutilated body, the neck twisted at a grotesque angle. A flash of dread and quiet horror swept over him, the sight of his dead body something that he knew would definitely haunt him in the years to come.

A hand clenched in the gold of his uniform shirt, and he backed up a step farther, standing in front of the young Spock as that thing took a step forward. Jim felt a slight rush of fear as it smiled, and he was once again reminded of just how _wrong_ that looked on Spock's face. It wasn't even the fact that it was a smile; it was just what it seemed to mean. The way his eyes narrowed, the white teeth that were revealed, the feeling of menace radiating from him all led to having all the hairs on Jim's neck stand up on end.

But then he noticed something else, something that made his eyes widen. His eyes locked on the fingers of its right hand, or rather, what was missing from it. The index finger on that hand was now nothing more than a blood-encrusted stump.

Jim locked eyes with it, the blue widening, and he reached back, gripping Spock's shoulder. The half-Vulcan was as tense as a bow string, and Jim was tempted to turn around and talk to him for a moment, but the thing staring at them made him unable. He didn't want to turn his back to it. He had already felt what it could do. But it noticed the way his eyes flicked back to look at Spock for a moment after noticing the stump.

"Didn't know your little First Officer had it in him, did you, Kirk? Does it disgust you?"

"Actually, no. I was about to tell him how proud of him I was. I always knew that mouth of his was dangerous," Jim stated coolly, having felt how much tenser Spock had gotten at that.

The smile on its face dimmed slightly, and it shrugged. "Didn't expect for you to give in that easily. You've yet to discover just how unnatural your little First is. When you do…I'm looking forward to it." The tone of his voice held pure amusement, and Jim tensed, glaring into that face.

"I don't care what he is, he's my First Officer, and I'm not leaving him here with you."

"We'll see…" it sang out, and then launched itself forward.

Jim hadn't been expecting it, but Spock shoved him forward, Vulcan strength doubling him over, and it sailed directly over the top of them, rolling and spinning around to face them. But it was already too late; Spock had grabbed Jim's sleeve and the two of them were mid-run to the lift. Spock hit the button hard, Jim found himself beyond gratified when the lift doors opened to another memory.

Jim stared into the face of more bigotry, even as they ran, unaware if or when the thing would pop up. Jim was both annoyed, and thankful that they weren't given enough time to fully examine the memories. On one hand, he was dreadfully curious, but on the other, the feelings and emotions attached to them were hard to handle. Especially the gaping loss of feelings that most of them turned into.

He ran through memory after memory, the little Spock always one step in front of him, making sure that Jim knew where to go. Finally, Spock began leading him to what he thought was the way out, and relief flooded his system.

A form rose up from the ground, solidifying itself in front of that door, its arms launching out to either side, blocking the way. That Spock's face was locked into a snarl, its hair dishelved in a way that Spock would never allow. The strange length of its arms and the slow sharpening of teeth made Jim slow, Spock once again behind him.

The jaw lengthened, jutting out slightly, teeth growing almost too big to hold in that mouth, hands turning into claw like talons that punctured holes in the metal. "Not yet." It was still using Spock's voice, and the effect of it all sent a shiver down Jim's spine. "We haven't even gotten started yet…"

"Yeah, well I think I'd rather we didn't start. I have no interest in whatever you're planning. Let us through."

The laugh this time was worse, and Jim felt Spock clutch at his shirt again, he automatically lifted him up, turning the side of his body without Spock towards that thing. "Leave him alone."

Another laugh. "You say that as though I want the boy. He's simply a means to an end."

The way he spoke of him like that made Jim's blood boil. Here was another who didn't consider his First a person, here was another who was prepared to try and walk all over him, another who was prepared to use him and discard him. He glared, nostrils flaring slightly, teeth gritting. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he was going to do something.

It wouldn't know what hit…_hmm_….

Jim tapped his First Officer on his back lightly, keeping his eyes locked on that thing as it began closing the distance between them. A twisted smile was on its face as with each step the screech of metal echoed as the walls were sliced open like butter. Spock gripped at Jim's neck with one arm, the other behind them both.

Jim envisioned what he wanted with all his heart.

It continued walking towards them, eyes turning red, pupils elongating into slits, its every step calculated, calm, challenging. Soft giggling laughter trickled out of its mouth, the walls closing in behind them. There was no escape. The only way was forward. It moved forward closer, and Jim could smell its breath, rank, foul…

It took another step, when the arm around Jim's neck joined the other behind Jim's back, and brought a baseball bat to bear. Before the thing had a chance to register what it was seeing, Spock had swung with all his might, slamming into that head and making it crumble to the side. Jim hurriedly began to head for the door, jumping over the thing and running as fast as he could.

Next moment something grabbed his ankle and he sprawled forward, Spock once again tumbling forward. Only this time, when Spock's eyes opened there was no fear in his eyes. Jim looked back and his eyes met something he was sure hailed directly from his nightmares. A long pale arm was gripping his ankle, and it led back to an equally pale creature, long jagged teeth filling a gaping mouth, eyes flaming. Its head was partially crushed, and Jim felt his heart leap into his throat. The arm was retracting, dragging Jim along with it.

Before either of them could blink, Spock had stood up and walked forward, making direct eye contact with the thing, before stomping his foot down on that arm with all of his weight and force. There was an echoing _crack_, and the thing let go, a wail of agony echoing in the silence. Spock hurriedly helped Jim up, and the two of them ran through the door, into the blackness of the space between barriers.

The two of them doubled over, panting for breath, Jim only just realizing that his ankle was in agony now that the adrenaline was wearing out. He tested his weight on it, and let out a gasp, hurriedly picking it up so he could sit down, looking at his foot. Jim gave a soft curse, thankful that he could imagine the boot gone so he could see what the problem was. The boot and sock vanished, and he nearly groaned at the sight of the livid purple bruising that ringed it. But that wasn't the only thing that got him; it had been popped out of joint.

Spock crouched next to him, eyes running over that ankle before looking up at Jim. "I can reset it, but it will hurt."

"Just…just get it over with." He closed his eyes, and bit into a leather strap he had called up hard. He felt two warm hands position themselves, and waited, every muscle tensing.

"Three…two…one."

The feeling of it made Jim scream into the strap, muffling his voice, the small Vulcan looking up at him worriedly. A moment later amidst panting breaths, Jim removed the strap, admiring the new bite marks in it. "Thank…you…" he gasped out, tenderly putting weight on his ankle. When it held he carefully stood up. There was no time for anything else. He was sure that when they got out of this place McCoy would be able to fix everything. There was no 'if' they got out. There was only 'when', Jim refused to let it be any other way.

He took a breath and carefully hobbled around, before imagining his boot back, adding extra support for his ankle to keep it stable. Jim ran in place for a few steps, his ankle throbbing slightly, but there was no flash of pain that would be crippling. It was good enough for him.

Spock looked up at him, and his eyes held something in their depths that made Jim wary. He still crouched down next to him, locking eyes with the small boy. "Do you know what that thing was?"

"Negative, but I do not believe that was its true form."

"Why?" In his head, Jim groaned. Of course it wasn't its true form. That would just be too easy, wouldn't it?

"Several reasons, the fact that I would have seen it should it have approached me in the first place being one. The fact that it is able to shift forms at will, apparently, the fact that it seems more interested in causing fear and chaos than our deaths, at least…at the moment. However, I may be wrong. It is possible that it is a previously unknown species of shape shifter."

"Lovely."

Spock raised his eyebrow, and Jim felt a smile creep up his face at that reaction. He had missed it.

They turned to look at the next barrier as one, and Jim took a deep breath. He somehow knew that they would have quite a bit to go.  
…

McCoy was in the middle of an argument with Sulu, eyes narrowed. The rest of them were regarding the two of them in amusement.

"Fencing is _not_ a lame sport. It's physically challenging, mentally stimulating, and counts as a good form of exercise."

"Yet you all look like a bunch of pansies wavin' those swords around."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous about my _sword_."

The rest gave him wide-eyed stares before bursting out laughing, McCoy puffed himself up. "I ain't jealous of nothin'. Got no reason to be anyway, with what you're packin'."

Sulu glared at him, their laughter echoing, and opened his mouth before Uhura interrupted him.

"Boys, boys, put them away, you can discuss it later. Or…never. Honestly, what are you all, teenagers?"

"It's not my fault that this ship is filled with what basically amounts to college students. It's like a permanent frat party."

"Does this mean I get a paddle?" Nyota asked, eyebrow raised.

They laughed again, finding comfort in the silliness of the conversation, trying to find a way to put off facing the reality of the situation just a bit longer. They knew that it would just be harder when it wound up staring them in the face again, but for now they lost themselves in the pleasure of another's company. But inside each and every one of them, a kernel of fear and dread still remained. Their situation was not something they could walk away from easily. The two still forms on the biobeds next to them attested to that.

In fact, as though to wave that fact in their faces, the biobeds went off again. Every drop of humor that they had gained or retained evaporated. McCoy told them all to back off, and they hurriedly did so, moving to a spot where they could watch without getting in his way. His nurses immediately moved to his aid, Scotty watching quietly from his spot in the biobed next to them.

McCoy was barking orders, each of them immediately followed out, his nurses working with him in tandem. The medical jargon he was spouting was incomprehensible even to Uhura, but they could tell by the increasingly shrill warnings that it was not going well.

McCoy's voice was thick with his drawl, the words running together almost, but the nurses were so accustomed to their doctor that there was no hesitation. They handed off everything he needed, quietly following his every order.

Nothing helped.

Finally, the warnings ceased on their own, and they backed off slightly. McCoy was breathing hard, anxiety creasing his brow. He was getting beyond tired of not being able to help them. He was so tired of it.

The nurses spent a few quiet moments, each of them looking the two over, tubes and wires checked and rechecked, blankets straightened, foreheads mopped free of sweat. Then they trickled out, leaving a glaring McCoy, and a worried crew. Scotty levered himself out of bed weakly, the aches in his bones and newly healed skin protesting. He pressed a hand to McCoy's shoulder, patting it twice and looking around. Anything to avoid looking at the two of them, anything to try and make Leonard feel less useless.

McCoy didn't respond, his eyes locked onto Jim's ankle. He glared at it, cocking his head to the side and crouching lower. They had been stripped of their uniforms earlier, traded for hospital grade gowns. But that wasn't what McCoy was paying attention to. At the moment his eyes were on Jim's ankle.

He moved the sheet up gingerly, revealing a yellow sock covering that foot, small treads running along the bottom of it. But that wasn't what he was looking at. He was instead staring in mild shock at Jim's ankle which had been popped out of joint.

Scotty looked at that in worry, slowly and gingerly lowering himself down so he could see too. Nyota and the boys moved in as well.

"How the hell did that happen?"

McCoy narrowed his eyes at it, examining the livid purple bruising, running along what looked like finger marks. "Something got a hold of him…"

He moved his hands forward, only to hesitate slightly. Next moment something or someone popped the joint back into place. They stared.

"Holy…"

McCoy didn't bother commenting on it, merely examined it closely with narrowed eyes, finally nodding his approval. "Good work Spock…"

"What the hell was that, Doctor?"

"That was originally whatever sick bastard is in Spock's mind tormenting them, and the one who set it was Spock."

"That's…"

"One of the weirdest things you've ever heard?"

"I was going for 'insane', but that gets the job done."

"How closely connected are their minds to their physical bodies?" Nyota asked softly, her eyes narrowed in consideration.

"From what I can tell anything that happens in their minds is outwardly reflected on their bodies. The reason they haven't been placed through the usual stretches is due to the fact that their muscles are in a constant state of tension. Naturally they can't be dragged around by whatever the hell it is that hurts them, but cuts, bruises, and apparently dislocated ankles all affect their physical bodies. So does vomiting I think…"

"Does…does that mean that they can feel what happens to their physical bodies?"

"You mean if we touch one of them will they be able to feel it?"

"Yeah, or…maybe even if we talk to them would they be able to hear it?"

McCoy was silent for a moment, eyes trailing back and forth from the two lying on the bed. "Even if it does, I don't think that Spock will let it reach Jim. Or, possibly let it reach himself. It would be something that would potentially distract them. That distraction could prove deadly. I honestly hope that they can't. Leaves them with less things that could potentially be the death of them."

"In that case, I hope you're right, for both their sakes."


	10. 10 The

They stood in front of the barrier again, this time the color a pure white that made Jim squint. He looked down and blinked at the sight of a translucent film covering the small Spock's eyes and glared at him. "Lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, well… So, what is this barrier going to do? Be so hot that it burns my hand off, freeze me into an ice block?"

Spock looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and Jim grinned at him. "I just want to be prepared."

"Hmm." Spock walked up to the barrier, and brought his own hand out to it carefully, Jim watched, tensing slightly, eyes focused on that hand. There was a hesitant pause that small hand just barely hovering over that wall, Jim's breath caught in his throat.

Suddenly he pressed his hand to it, and the light faded, Spock letting out a brief shout of pain. Jim gave a yell of protest, hurrying forward and yanking the boy back. He paused, looking down at Spock, pulling his hand up by his wrist so he could look for any sign of damage, only to blink when he saw nothing. Then something else caught his attention. It was breathy, slightly bubbly, and it came from right next to his ear.

He turned his eyes, wide with shock to regard the small Spock giggling like mad, his eyes bright, his mouth pulled into a small smile, and his expression holding amusement. "Why you sneaky little…" Jim's eyes were bright with his own laughter, glaring ineffectively in the face of the absolute amusement in Spock's eyes. "You jerk, I thought something was wrong! I thought you were hurt! I thought you were being zapped or something!"

Spock just continued to giggle at him, and Jim glared before an evil thought popped into being in his head. Spock seemed to notice the sneaky look on Jim's face and automatically stopped his laughter, looking at him warily. Jim paused for a moment and then his fingers began dancing up and down the small boy's sides. Spock's eyes widened in shock for a moment and then he squirmed backwards, trying to stop from giggling, trying to squirm out of his hold.

"Oh no you don't, if you're going to scare me like that you're going to take the consequences!" Jim grinned, trying to find all the places where the boy was the most ticklish, the boy's face flushing green with laughter and lack of oxygen, and Jim finally relented. "There, serves you right."

Spock took a breath, and crumpled backwards, just breathing, a slight smile curling the corners of his mouth. Something in his expression was slightly dazed, and Jim considered for a moment. "No one's ever tickled you, have they?"

"They have not…the sensation…is…strange," he breathed out, looking at him dazedly. "I do not like it."

"Alright, I won't do it again." Jim grinned, holding his hands out to the sides innocently.

"Thank you."

"Seriously though, what does that barrier feel like?"

Spock looked at it and then back to Jim. "Do not tell me you are afraid of the barrier."

"I am not afraid. It's just…they haven't been some of the nicest things to walk through, Spock."

A small smirk curved up the corner of the boy's mouth and he sat up. "Shall we simply get it over with?"

"Alriiighhht…" Jim whined, glaring at the barrier like a petulant child, Spock looking up at him in confusion.

"If I did not know better I would say you are trying to amuse me."

"Well…maybe a little? I've never seen you laugh, it's…adorable."

Spock looked up at him with a small raised eyebrow and Jim grinned at him. "So is that."

"You are stalling."

Jim sighed, and looked at the barrier, his eyes dull. "Can you really blame me, Spock? Some of this is…it's difficult. I don't like having such insights into your psyche. Not when your life was like this. I know that I wouldn't want anyone to see some of the stuff that's in my head, and I'm betting that you feel just the same. It feels like a violation I suppose."

"I asked you here. You are my friend, Jim. I would rather have you here than that thing."

Kirk laughed, "Probably rather have me rather than McCoy, am I right?"

"Indeed."

Jim took a breath, and then the two of them walked forward, Spock's hand once again holding onto Jim's wrist, Kirk's other hand shading his eyes. This time the barrier didn't truly feel like anything he could touch. Instead it felt like someone had reached into his insides, a lead weight forming in his stomach.

When they crossed, Jim was pretty certain he knew what they had entered.

He broke into a sweat immediately, the dry heat of Vulcan on a good day he figured. Jim just hoped that it wouldn't start crumbling again. Spock had probably seen enough of that. He wondered if he would ever be able to look at his memories of Vulcan in the same way ever again. He wondered if they would forever remain tainted by that thing's meddling. He wondered if Spock would ever be the same.

Jim's eyes flitted to his small Vulcan guide, looking for any sign of how this was affecting him. He wasn't too pleased with what he saw, but he didn't expect much else. The shoulders were slightly hunched, the head bowed, nothing like the tall and proud First Officer he was used to. Granted, this boy was nothing like the First that he was used to. He couldn't be more than 3'8" for one thing, and he actually smiled and laughed in a way that was visible.

But, there was no doubt that he was still Spock. That thing couldn't have been less like Spock, even when it stole his form. He wanted nothing more than to see that thing dead and Spock's mind his own.

Spock was leading him through what looked like endless desert and sand. Jim was stumbling slightly as the heat decreased, the twin suns sinking behind the mountain ridge. Spock stopped eventually, on a mountaintop overlooking a valley of nothing more or less than endless sand. His hands were behind his back, and his expression was smoother than it had yet been. Eventually night fell, and Jim squinted into the darkness in narrow-eyed concentration, finally giving up on seeing normally and with a bit of concentration managed to enhance his night vision as he had before. "Can you see?"

"I can, Vulcan had no moon so I am able to see in the dark that it falls into. The Vulcan eye can see better than a human's in darkness."

"Ah, makes sense I suppose. What are we waiting for…" His voice trailed off, watching as a form became visible that was about the same height as Spock. In fact, as it got closer, Jim registered that he was looking at a Spock at the same age as the one who was currently standing next to him with his hands behind his back.

But that wasn't the thing that made his eyes bug out; it was the large beast behind him. It was huge, and six-inch fangs protruded from its mouth. Jim had just taken in a breath to shout an involuntary warning, when the small boy turned around and began to _scold_ the beast. Kirk's eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

"What the hell?"

"That is a sehlat, Jim. The equivalent of a Vulcan…teddy bear I think you would call it. Only ours are living and come equipped with six-inch fangs. That was my pet."

"Was?"

Spock was silent, and Jim recalled that feeling that had come into being at the barrier. _Shame_. He knew then that he would find out.

Jim watched and listened closely, eyes slightly narrowed as bits and pieces came together. "You…left, without telling your parents, and this is…some sort of deadly maturity test?" Jim asked finally, his eyes widening slightly. "Damn, when you rebel you rebel."

Spock was silent for a moment. "It was not a matter of rebelling. It was a matter of proving something to myself."

"Proving what?"

"That I could be Vulcan," Spock whispered out, staring at the two of them in the distance as the young boy finally gave up and continued walking, the sehlat trailing behind him. They watched quietly from the distance, and then he saw it, crouched low to the ground and stalking them was a green cat like thing. It looked like a tiger, and Jim felt his blood freeze in his veins as he took all of it in.

"What…what's that?"

"A le-matya… It is, was, a predator native to Vulcan."

"Spock…"

Before he could truly say anything it roared, and the sound was both so familiar and so bone-chilling that he tensed, his eyes widening. The Spock of the memory tensed, looked behind him and met eyes with the le-matya, and ran, climbing up a nearby rock face and turning to look at the sound of the sehlat attacking the le-matya.

Jim was tense, watching as the two slammed into each other, one in the defense of a little boy, the other with the intent to kill. The emotions that ran through the memory made Jim drunk on a rush of dizzy adrenaline, fear and worry. Suddenly a Vulcan launched himself into the fray, landing on the le-matya's shoulders and delivering a nerve pinch. It collapsed, and the Vulcan straightened up.

Jim felt his heart slow down as the emotions ebbed into relief and wary thanks. But then his eyes focused fully on the Vulcan stranger, and they narrowed. "Spock?"

"He introduced himself as Salek, Jim…"

Jim's mouth stretched into a smile. "Well…I'll be damned…" He laughed, and then turned to look down at the small boy. "We'll make sure you get wherever this is in order to save your life."

"I believe that that would be appreciated."

Jim gave him a grin, and then continued watching, listening to the quiet advice given from one Spock to another, the emotions calming and forming into contemplation, consideration, and a slow respect for the Vulcan in front of him. "So you've had a couple experiences where there were two of you…"

"So it would seem."

It was then that Jim heard something behind them. He tensed slightly, and then turned; locking eyes with something that he was certain could only exist in his nightmares. He reached out slightly, and his hand dug into Spock's shoulder. The small Vulcan turned, and met eyes with the thing easily. But then he tensed.

"Jim…that thing is not part of my memories."

"Oh…really?"

"Yes…"

"Run?"

"Run."

With that Spock grabbed hold of his wrist and began running. The thing behind them flexed its sinewy muscles and launched down the mountain after them. Spock's ears protested the sound of its claws digging into the rock, the sparks flying with every leap. Jim turned around once, his eyes locking with the sight of the large catlike _thing_ behind him. It was much larger than any catlike animal he had ever seen. It was also black, its eyes pinpricks of fire, and he had never seen anything so horrible. What made it worse was that it blended into the shadows, he was only barely aware of its existence.

They stumbled down the mountain, feet slipping, Spock's shoes getting torn on the rock face as they scrambled for purchase. They were not made for such a venture. Jim swung him up into his arms, leaping from rock to rock, his ankle protesting, but there was no other choice.

The thing let out a snarling call that made the hairs on the back of Jim's neck stand up, the sound echoing and screeching, Spock's hands covering his ears as it reached a pitch too high for the human to hear. The boy's own shout echoed among the rocks, and Jim gripped him tighter. Jim ran faster when he heard it coming, the breath from its lungs just felt on the back of his neck when Jim ducked, coming to a stop in the sand, the thing sailing over the top of them to roll and regard them.

The thing moved back and forth, eyes constantly trained on them, something like a smile curling up its lips, teeth that were longer than Jim's hand bared and shining in the starlight. Jim glared at it, only to tense slightly when it crouched, its left forearm crooked and its first toe missing on its right side. But he knew that it didn't matter. If that thing got a hold of either of them, they'd be dead. They would fail, and the _Enterprise_ would be next on its list.  
….

Scotty had been released. They had made him swear to light duty, and Keenser was to act as official reporter of the Head Engineer's whereabouts. There would be no more going days without sleep, or without food. Scotty had not been too thrilled with the arrangement, but there had been no other choice.

Communications were still down, but not through lack of effort. The ship was barely running on impulse power as it was. They wouldn't be able to survive another attack and they were about a week from Vulcan at their current location. Scotty would either have to pull another miracle out of his ass, or they were all in serious trouble.

McCoy was in the middle of cleaning the blood and sweat from their bodies, every body part cleaned one at a time, a warm blanket protecting their modesty. It was one of the most intimate things he had to do as a doctor and a surgeon, and if wasn't for Spock's Vulcan privacy he wouldn't be doing it at all. Although, he knew that wasn't true. They were family.

"Jim, your ship is a wreck… The crew's moral is lackin', and you've been stuck like this for days now. I know what I told them about hopin' that you can't hear us, but I can't help it. That goes for you too, you pointy-eared goblin. I don't want you thinkin' I forgot about you, because you're what started this whole mess in the first place. I think I understand what you were doin' now. This wasn't about you killin' yourself because you were tired of us or because you thought you deserved it. You were tryin' to save the rest of us from whatever latched onto your brain."

It felt weird, talking like this, basically to himself, but he couldn't stop himself. He found that he didn't want to stop, the silence pressuring him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face that wasn't covered with a cloth sopping with boiling water (_Vulcans_), and looking around in annoyance. "I wish that you hadn't, but from all I know, it could have been your only option. You brave fool, when did it happen, I wonder? It couldn't have happened on the ship…none of our officers have a psi rating high enough. So that leaves…" He paused, and then let out a weary chuckle, shaking his head. "Of course. The very first shore leave you actually take, and somethin' enters your mind with nothin' else as a goal than hostile takeover. Or…maybe somethin' else."

McCoy paced around the private ward, and then returned to the biobeds. "Well, I promise you one thing, hobgoblin. I'll do everythin' in my power to make sure that it doesn't get a chance. If it kills you…if it kills Jim, I promise that I won't leave you alone. You might think you want it, but you don't. I'll be there. For both of you if it goes the other way. Man that sounds cheesy as hell, but I'll be damned if you don't know it. You've both become family. The brothers I've never had, and I care for you. But, because I'm an ass, I'll never admit it to your face." Once finished he pulled another gown onto each one, straightening it after changing the bed linens.

"Well…there we go. Good for a while, so long as one of you doesn't start bleedin' all over yourselves again. Please. Refrain."

With a final check of everything he turned to walk out, his mind on what other crazy sap would wind up in his sickbay because they gave up so much to help the captain and the first officer. He was smart enough to know that Scotty wouldn't be the last.


	11. Ship

_People, I am beyond sorry that it took this long. It's been difficult. I hope you like it anyway, do be sure to review._  
...

Jim backed away from the thing, Spock trailing behind him on the same pattern as the two began to circle each other. Jim was always in front of Spock, unwilling to let that thing get any closer. It let out another shriek, the pitch rising, Jim's eardrums ringing and Spock's teeth gritting, his hands coming up to cover his ears tightly, nearly doubling over.

Jim glared at it, fingers flexing, his mind running through ideas of what he could do. He was positive that he needed a weapon. That thought in mind he began running through each possibility. A phaser was something that he was seriously considering, but the fact was he was unsure if he could aim at that thing, let alone hit it. But it was certainly going to be something he would have trouble physically standing up to. He had no idea…

The thing pounced, and Jim rolled out of the way, reflexes honed through years of training, a shriek of surprise making his head jerk up. He turned around, and his eyes met with something that brought his heart into his mouth and caused the blood to freeze in his veins. The creature was over top of the small boy, its forelegs pinning his torso to the ground, retractable claws digging into his chest as Spock's arms reached up, helplessly trying to push the things head away.

Green blood welled up, the thin arms backed up by Vulcan strength barely able to push what looked like a head made out of teeth away from his face. But the arms were trembling with strain, the torso slowly being crushed and Jim heard ribs cracking, a small pool of green blood forming at the corner of the boy's mouth. Jim launched himself at it, there was no hesitation, there was no planning, the only thing on his mind to get that _thing_ off of him.

He collided with unmoving sinew, muscle, and bone, but that didn't stop him. Jim felt it give slightly, and then he had suddenly pushed it off. Jim had a moment to stare in shock, before a terrible pain flashed across his chest. He let out a shout, crumbling to the sand, his arms coming up to press onto his torso. The thing growled, the sound the equivalent of broken glass and it crouched, a smile hiding on its large salivating jaws, the teeth in its mouth jagged and long, barely able to fit inside its closed mouth.

Jim had a moment to imagine something long and pointed before the thing sprang, the red flaming eyes widening as it realized its mistake too late to avoid the end of a spear. It dug into its shoulder, something that would merely wound it, but it was enough. The thing yet out a loud yowl and rolled away, running away from Jim's field of vision, black viscous blood splattering to the sand.

Jim hurried over to Spock, ignoring the blood dripping from his chest and the four gashes that had been torn along it. Spock was staring at the sky vacantly, eyes wide with fear, glazed over with pain. Jim stared at his torso, horror written in every line of his face before he reached out, gripping a hold of the top of the boys tunic and ripping it off, leaving him in black pants.

When he saw the state of Spock's torso he hissed through his teeth, eyes dancing over puncture wounds, bruises, and the bloody discolored mess that his chest now was.

"Shit…" he finally breathed out, hands moving out gently, touching his sides. Spock let out a soft groan, letting out a cough, green blood splattering out across his chest. Broken ribs, one of them possibly puncturing the lungs… _Oh God… _  
….

The warnings from the private ward at the far end of the room jolted McCoy out of his office chair so fast it crashed into the wall. He didn't pause, simply hurried out of the room, his team of nurses joining him in a general flock to it. Equipment was gathered, prior cases drawn upon in order to predict what they would need.

When McCoy stepped into the room to see Spock coughing up blood while red and green liquid soaked and mingled through just changed sheets and smocks, he felt his heart stop. It was the only part of him that did, the rest continued moving, barking orders, washing hands and grabbing gloves and mask and scrubs. His nurses ran diagnostics, fetched and sterilized equipment, telling the doctor what was happening.

As the picture slowly began being painted, McCoy felt the rug snatched out from under his feet. What little they had been able to change would not amount to what was necessary to save them. But he would still try. He had to try…

A bone knitter was placed into his hands first as the hospital gowns and sheets were removed, their torsos bared for better access. His nurses working on cleaning Jim's cuts as McCoy set to knitting Spock's ribs, for once glad that the Vulcan was unaware. The procedure was painful. But with each rib that was fixed, the one that he had just fixed cracked again. Jim's chest was doing much the same.

McCoy was still trying to fix Spock's ribs long after his nurse had given up. He felt his eyes welling up, his throat closing, but his hands never shaking, even as he felt like he was collapsing from the inside out. One last pass, one last break, and the tool went flying across the room, the surgeon falling to his knees beside the biobeds, head in his hands, ignoring the green blood that he was smearing across his face and hair with his gloves. He didn't cry, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, his eyes scratchy and red. But he couldn't.

His nurses backed away, the biobed sirens left to continue their blaring warnings. The only thing left to do was to wait until Spock bled out or drowned on the liquid in his lungs. They were nearly certain that if he died Jim would die as well. It wouldn't take too long. They were silent, hands clasping in front of them, heads bowed but eyes dry. The death of the greatest Command Duo Starfleet had ever seen deserved that much from them.

McCoy was barely aware of the fact it was happening. His brain was having trouble processing. They heard the sound of the biobeds begin to fade and quiet, and their eyes closed tightly against the tears. Suddenly a voice began laughing. Heads jerked up, faces turning to stare at the one who was making such a sound, blinking at the sight of Christine Chapel staring at the two on the biobed and laughing like a maniac.

McCoy looked up, eyes glaring and red, but then blinked. He turned his head to regard the biomonitors, and felt his jaw drop.

He stood up, eyes wide, looking over the two lying there. They were covered in blood and naked as the day they were born, the remains of hospital gowns torn, urinary catheters in place and tubes running fluid and antibiotic sticking into them, but whole, and _alive_.

McCoy laughed until he cried.  
…

"Capillaries, blood vessels, nerve endings and the nerves themselves, ribs need to be knit, muscles repaired, tears in lungs mended, lungs inflated and fluid drained…" Jim whispered, hand pressing to the small Vulcan's forehead, head bowed over the straining chest. Each and every word of what was necessary was soon followed up, Spock finally turning to the side to cough and hack up the blood and phlegm that had been making his breath gurgle in his throat.

Each cough was a sign that he would live, each breath further proof of his existence, and Jim felt his heart soar. That in mind he pulled back slightly, mind running over the wounds in his own chest, sealing them up. He had a moment to reflect with amusement that his shirt was torn again before calling one up, pulling it over his head and reaching out to help the small Vulcan sit up, grinning as he offered him a replacement tunic. Spock's eyes said more than his words ever could but he held his arms out, letting Jim pull the soft brown tunic over his head.

Jim grinned at him. "Think that we've managed to scar Bones for life?"

The small Spock considered, his head cocked slightly to the side before meeting his eyes. "I would expect that the situation would merit it."

"He's never letting us out of his sight again, is he?"

"Unfortunately."

Jim threw his head back and laughed, just laughed. The laughter was slightly hysterical and Spock looked up at him with worry in his eyes and face, and Jim began looking for something, anything to get his mind off of it, only to blink when he noticed the sehlat lying on the ground. He blinked, the laughter slowing to a stop, his expression one of confusion. He looked at Spock and watched as the boy followed where his gaze turned to for a moment and then met Jim's eyes steadily.

"The claws of the Le-matya are poisonous. My foolishness led to I-chaya's death. In his rush to protect me, he was wounded. The only possibility of his continued existence would be painful. I chose a swift death, one that would free him from the pain. He was my father's before he was mine."

"Your first true choice as a Vulcan…"

"And one that set the path my life was to take, but it does not change the fact that it was something I would rather had not happened…" he whispered softly, and Jim looked at the hulking beast in front of him, and then crouched down to look at Spock.

"I'd rather it was him than you."

Spock blinked, looking up at him with eyes that were both confused and somehow thankful.

"Come on, let's get through this. How much more?"

"A lifetime is a long time. But we have taken the quickest route to get to the center and what lies there."

Spock's voice was quiet, his eyes holding fear.

"Well…let's get there."

"Follow me."

Those quiet words and Spock began walking, Jim following him to stand on a ridge overlooking the Vulcan city at the bottom, and his eyes widened. "Wow…"

Spock glanced over it as well, taking in the glow of lights and the pointed towers and natural material workmanship that Vulcans favored. He turned his head to regard Jim steadily. "This, Jim, is the Vulcan city of Shi-Khar, it is likely the first and the last time you shall ever see it."

The words caused Jim to blink, and then stare at it, a wave of melancholy flooding his system, a feeling that wasn't his own. "It was a beautiful city."

Spock reached a hand out, and Jim gave a soft whistle when that hand vanished. "Come."

Simple enough command, Jim thought, and reached his hand out, watching with a detached sense of amusement as his hand vanished as well. He looked over at Spock and wiggled his eyebrows before passing all the way through.

He was in Starfleet Academy. That simple realization made him blink, and turn a more curious eye around himself, seeking out the likely older Vulcan, and locked onto him sitting by himself in what counted as an impromptu cafeteria. It was dark, and there wasn't anyone else there except for the Vulcan himself.

"Another late night?"

"I had been in the middle of a project that took up most of my time. This was the first available opportunity I had to eat."

"Ah, I see, plomeek soup?"

"Negative, the replicator's version was…distasteful."

"I think that has to be one of the most Spock-like statements you've made so far." Jim grinned, laughing.

"That is both illogical and insulting," Spock stated, looking up at him with narrowed eyes and a small frown on his face, Jim just laughed.

"Well, one thing's for sure, I'm going to look back on these moments later and just laugh. Not…not the rest though, I think I'm going to look back at those, and have nightmares."  
…

"Dammit Jim, I just washed your naked behind, why the hell did you have to make me go back and do it again? And you, don't get me started you, you green blooded hobgoblin. I have seen more green-tinted skin than I have ever seen in my life, and ever wanted to see. The only good thing about this situation is that your hair is stickin' up. And you know what? I think I'm gonna leave it that way, so when you wake up you'll be less than your usual impeccable self, how do ya like that?"

McCoy grumbled his way through cleaning the blood off of them, changing the bedding and pulling on new gowns over their limp bodies. One arm was always left out of the sleeve, each running the length to another face, eyes still closed, foreheads lined with concentration. "Well…that's it then. Now, this time, let's try and be nice to a poor old country doctor and not give him a heart attack. I'd like to live past forty, thank you."

He sighed, and pulled a chair over, sitting it next to Jim and leaning back against the wall. "So, Nyota's finally made some progress on communications. We're not even really aware how she did it, but she did. This ship is a wreck, Jim. We all need a nice long shore leave after this shit is all over. New Vulcan is certainly not gonna cut it, sorry, Spock, but it's too damn hot for most of us. I'm sure your green pointy-eared self would love it, and maybe Jim can arrange a stay for you, but I'm pretty sure the rest of us would want to get the hell out.

"Well…they would if they had any sense that is…" McCoy cleared his throat, tilting his chair back to lean against the wall. "I really hate these chairs. I'm sure you've probably figured it out by now, with both of your tendencies to get your asses into sickbay, but these chairs are actually requested uncomfortable. Why? To get people out. Yes, I'm an ass, but what else is new…"

He coughed, sighing then and looking at the two of them. "I really hate this, you know. I miss the conversations. Hell, I even miss you, you pointy-eared hobgoblin. Once again, I will never, ever tell you to your face, but it's still there. Maybe it's too much to ask of you, but I really, really want you to try and get out. I want you to kick the ass of whatever the hell it is that's tormenting you, and I want you to come out with a smile on your face, Jim, and one of those really stupid twinkles you get in your eyes, Spock. That's all that I really want at this point. You both to come out alive, happy, and victorious."

With that small speech he stood up and began his way to the door. As it whooshed open he paused, turning his head to look back at them, silent and still. "It's probably way too much to ask, but that's never stopped me before."

He left without another backwards glance, into the rest of his domain, a small bitter smile curling his mouth as he saw two more Engineers that had the signs of sleep deprivation and starvation. With a sigh he straightened up and got back to work, nodding to Scotty as the Chief Engineer left from his position leaning against the wall, obviously making sure the two stayed until the doctor could come. His nurses were good for the rest, and had achieved it all grandly; he was there to hammer in the Engineer's stupidity.

There were times when he truly loved his job.


	12. 12 To

_This ladies and gentlemen is something that has been bugging me about every single story about this topic that I have ever seen. You shall shortly see what I mean. This is my interpretation of such a thing, so just be warned... _  
...

Jim grinned at the small Vulcan boy at his side before walking over to sit in front of the older one. If he were to guess he would say that the Vulcan in front of him was still a teenager. The emotions coming from him were slightly strange_. Curiosity apprehension confusion_ but for the first time there was also something like a _lack of focus listless fear '__**what is wrong with me**__?' _

The question was something that rang through every line of this memory, and Jim felt himself tense in sympathy and confusion.

"What's wrong with…" He watched in slight shock as Spock wobbled a bit standing up, the usual grace gone. He backed up slightly, nearly tripping over his chair. It was strange looking at him in a red cadet's uniform, but even stranger to see him as he was. Then he considered. "Holy shit…you're drunk. How the hell did you get drunk? Did you eat chocolate?"

"At the time I did not know that was what it was."

"Well, that explains the shame aspect that's going through here. I take it you got busted?"

"…" The silence was pressing, and Jim considered. Spock hadn't known that what he had eaten was covered in chocolate, but why would that be? Unless… His eyes flickered around, and then he saw them. Four human cadets stood just outside of the area. It was obvious that Spock had noticed them; they would not be there otherwise, so he must have dismissed them as no threat to him. Jim felt the tension build, and paid attention to the emotions, unsurprised when he suddenly felt the _confusion_ that flooded the air around him.

"Hey, looks like they weren't kidding about Vulcans. It seems that chocolate does get you drunk." A rather tall and hulking cadet walked forward, red uniform tight on him, another stood next to him, two more behind them both. They were strangely blurry, out of focus, and Jim blinked slightly at realizing that this was what it was like being drunk without the effects of alcohol. But he could still see their forms, and certain features stood out. Aside from the large brute, they were all rather average in size and appearance. Spock regarded them with dizzy _incomprehension_ that slowly turned to _fear_. They could see it too, in his expression, in his stance, in the way he backed up slightly on reflex before holding his ground.

"Aw, what's the matter? Are you afraid of us measly humans?" the one to the brutes left stated, green eyes piercing and a rather twisted smile on his face.

Spock clumsily tugged at the bottom of his uniform shirt, a nervous habit, and one that was brought into sharper relief under the scrutiny they were giving him. Another reedy one with brown hair grinned at that, "I think he is afraid. It's hard to be logical when your mind's all fuzzy, isn't it? Sort of brings the untouchable down to our level. I think I like it."

"So, what does it feel like, the great Vulcan brought down to our level?" a blue-eyed man asked, cocking his head to the side. His arms were crossed over his chest, and when Spock's eyes shifted to regard him listlessly, he straightened, a frown pulling at his thin lips. "What are you looking at, freak?"

Spock blinked and backed away slightly, nearly stumbling over his own feet, not saying a word. With the swirl of _fear confusion apprehension disgust_ and _shame shame shame_ that was flooding his system, Jim wasn't surprised that he wouldn't, possibly even _couldn't_ answer.

"Hey, I expect an answer when I talk to you, you Vulcan freak." Jim felt himself tense even more, standing up from the table when the man walked forward and shoved the Vulcan, he wobbled; nearly falling backwards, but managed to regain his footing.

They laughed, and the larger one walked forward, grinning slightly and leaning into his space, before pushing; this time his lack of balance and control made him land hard. The teen was at a loss, and he scooted back slightly, but the flash of _hate anger jealousy resentment_ that passed through him was not his own, and Jim realized suddenly what it would mean for a Vulcan to lose control in such a manner.

The man grinned slightly, crouching in front of the totally lost Vulcan who still had not uttered a word and reached out again, Spock batting his hand away before backing away. Jim had felt the realization though; the men in front of them were drunk themselves. He still felt the flash of _hatred_ that his touch gave. The man laughed, the rest of them joining in, and Spock winced, before crawling backwards faster.

"Oh no you don't…" The larger man walked forward, stopping behind the Vulcan and gripping the shoulders of a teenager, the rush of emotions more than the Vulcan could take, but due to the heavy confusion and the strong emotions pouring into his system, he barely twitched.

They all sauntered up then, crouching down to look at him, grinning with eyes that held nothing but malice. "Well, I have to say that it's good to see you brought down to this level. You belong there with the other riffraff. I can't believe that Starfleet is letting you green-blooded pricks into this place. Actually, wasn't your mother a human?"

"Hey, that's right; he's a hybrid as well as a Vulcan." Spock flinched at that, and the man grinned. "What, you ashamed that you're half-human? Because I'll tell you that it's the only decent part in you, you slimy good for nothin'." The sound of flesh on flesh, as well as a sound crack echoed through the empty courtyard, and Jim jolted forward from where he had been half-standing, half-leaning onto the table in front of him. It was only when he got there and realized that he couldn't interact with them that he balled his hands into fists, eyes trailing on the green liquid oozing from what looked like a broken nose. "I guess there's no account for taste."

"Shame really. I heard your mother was rather pretty too."

That made Spock's head tilt up slightly, and Jim felt a rush of vindictive amusement, that sore spot in the Vulcan praised. Before the laughter stopped, a single clumsy fist swung out and collided with the man's jaw. There was a ringing crack and the laughter stopped, even as the emotions of _vindictive hatred anger loathing_ filtered into Spock's system, joining the feelings already there in a drunken mesh of pain and confusion.

"Why you son of a bitch!" the man snarled out, spitting blood out to the side. He brought his fist back, only to freeze mid-swing, the man collapsing to the side.

"Son, if I were you I'd let go of that kid right now before I make you." The quiet and calm voice of the slightly blurry man in front of him made Jim grin savagely. "Well, did you hear me, cadet?"

"Aw, he's just a Vulcan, sir. There's no harm in it."

Another moment and the hands that were brutally digging into the Vulcan relaxed and slipped off. Christopher Pike reached forward carefully, and Spock flinched. "Please…" The first word he had said that night, and the accompanying feelings of _sadness sympathy calm care_ flooded in from where Pike finally gripped his shoulder and Jim knew right then and there that Spock would be alright.

A communicator was in Pike's hand a moment later, he called in the attack and requested security, then turned his attention back to Spock.

"Easy there. I'm not going to hurt you. Let's get you to medical. Sound alright?"

As Spock was pulled upright a deeper green flush became evident and Pike moved him off to the side a little and he threw up. Jim winced in sympathy. He had been that drunk quite a few times. It had never been enjoyable. But the problem was he had been stuck in a chain. It was merely the way it went.

They began a winding trail off to medical, Jim following after, a younger Spock following after quietly. Jim listened to the quiet questions of a man trying to understand the background of another.

"Do you have a roommate?" Pike asked

"I…I do, but he is never there. I do not believe anyone wished to be, and he avoids me." There was a moment of tense silence, one of them realizing he had said too much and closing his mouth, his lips pursing slightly.

"Did they hurt you much?" Pike asked, not bothering to respond to that statement.

"Not physically." Once again the mouth worked without permission and Spock looked helplessly at the man who gave him a look of quiet sympathy and apology. The emotions and sensations of thought that Spock was gaining from Pike might have been part of the reason he was speaking to him so freely, Jim reflected_. Sympathy apology a want to help_ and a general feeling of _trustworthiness_ that made it almost impossible not to talk to him.

When they reached medical a doctor walked over to them as soon as they entered, and a couple things were realized. "So, you're a Vulcan, you're drunk off your ass, and you have a nose that's threatening to swell and take over half your face. Pike, when you find them, you find them. What bastard did this to him?"

"Bastards, Mark."

Mark hissed through his teeth, and then turned to look at Spock. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you wanted nothing to do with all this."

"I never do, but that does not change the fact that finding myself in various states that are not wished for but often happen seems to be a common occurrence."

Mark sighed, running a hand through his graying blond hair before beginning to push the two of them in the right direction. They set his nose and cleaned it, running the regenerator over it to ease the swelling. "Well, that should do ya, I'd give you a detox, but with your metabolism you should be alright shortly. Pain relievers?"

"The increase of nausea would be counterproductive."

Mark made a noncommittal noise. "Best thing to do then is make sure you drink plenty of water. Pike, you can get him to his room. I'd imagine I'm going to have to deal with the lot who actually caused this shortly." Two piercing green eyes looked at Pike with a challenging amusement, the man clearing his throat and moving to Spock.

"Come on. Let's get you…" Another increase of vertigo, and before he could blink Mark had brought a bucket in front of him, once again emptying whatever had been left.

"This a first time for you?" Mark asked, an eyebrow rising.

"Indeed."

"Not very pleasant, is it?"

"Negative."

"There we go, keep your answers short and to the point. You should be okay."

"Easy, easy, come on. So, which part of the campus are you in?"

"Back, far corner, near the start of the track field, it is always very loud."

"Ah. Alright, let's get you there."

That said the two began a winding trek over to that area. Spock refused to lean on him, but Pike stood close, ready for when the Vulcan would fall. Jim followed after the still rather hazy world looked at with an expression of amusement now that the situation wasn't so dire. But what he had seen was always at the back of his mind.

He followed them, slightly thankful but almost disappointed that Pike didn't ask any more questions. The insight was something that was likely invaluable. They finally arrived at their destination, and Jim was instantly struck by the difference of the two sides of the room. One side was impeccably neat and tidy, the other was cluttered. Clothes scattered, bed unmade, but as Spock had said, no sign of the fabled roommate.

"So, not allowed on his side of the room?"

"I am not." Leave it to Spock to ruin a perfectly good sarcastic question. Pike's head swiveled to look at the Vulcan and said nothing, but his expression was slightly worried.

"Think you can get it from here?"

"I believe so. Thank you for your assistance; it was unexpected."

Pike hesitated slightly, moving to leave, only for the Vulcan to collapse to the ground. Pike hurriedly moved to the Vulcan's side, and sighed, "What on earth am I going to do with you?"

He helped him up, taking the Vulcan over to the bathroom; he let go and Spock made a wobbly beeline over towards the toilet, arriving just in time to throw up into it spectacularly. Christopher sighed and walked over, sitting down on the other side. "So, you're Spock. This is honestly not the meeting I had in mind."

"My apologies, if I had not been otherwise incapacitated, I believe I would provide you with a very different first impression. I believe it would have been the same one everyone else who sees me has, cold, unfeeling, and overbearing. I have yet to decide if this is better than emotional, weak, and worthless."

Pike blinked slightly, Jim wincing.

"Apologies, I cannot seem to hold my tongue."

"If that's your only problem, you're handling this better than most humans."

"I fail to see the appeal of such a state. I cannot see straight, my stomach is attempting to escape out of my mouth, and I am full of so much self-hatred I do not believe I can stand it."

"Easy there, I understand that this isn't a very Vulcan situation to find yourself in, but there is no need to…"

"It is not my own hate, Professor, merely the hatred of others. My telepathy has brought their feelings into my being and melded it with my own. Rest assured that were I myself that hatred would not be visible." The world was losing its fuzziness, the Vulcan metabolism being much faster than a human's clearing his system.

Pike said nothing, leaning back slightly, but Jim had learned a thing or two about Vulcan lies. "But would it still be there?" Apparently so had Pike.

Spock looked up at him. "Professor, I am aware that I have several qualities that are worthy of praise. I am also aware that I have others that are not as much. It is illogical to hate oneself, as it is illogical to love oneself. I am Vulcan, emotions have no consequence." Spock breathed deeply, the last of the fuzziness disappearing from his system. In its wake was a headache.

Pike gave a slight smirk. "Better?"

"Indeed."

"Alright, I'll get you some pain relievers."

"Professor, I must request that you do not. I believe that I would not be able to take the increase of nausea that would bring with it."

Christopher looked at the Vulcan who straightened up, flushing the toilet and moving to the sink to rinse his mouth out.

"I believe I can manage. What is to be done about my intoxication on academy grounds?"

Pike spluttered at the same time as Jim did, the both of them straightening slightly, flashing twin glares at him. "I don't believe there's any need for discipline."

"I am aware that the circumstances are…"

"The circumstances are everything. You are not going to be punished for something that you had no control over, or will to participate in. Those cadets on the other hand…" With that quiet promise Pike straightened up. "I expect to see you in my office tomorrow. We're going to go over what exactly happened. They aren't getting away with it."

Spock pressed his lips together, but inclined his head.

Jim looked to the side, meeting gazes with the small Vulcan, looking back and then giving a brief snort. "You know, I think Pike has a knack for meeting his crew when they're completely hammered."

"Indeed?"

"That was how he met me."

"Fascinating." That said he led him out of the bathroom, across the room and to the door to the outside. His hand reached out carefully, and Jim noticed that his hand was trembling. "Jim…" The voice was quiet, and Kirk looked down at him, eyebrows coming together slightly.

"Yeah?"

Spock hesitated and then shook his head, right before his hand came to rest on the doorknob.


	13. Vulcan

Spock slowly twisted the knob, pushing it open. Jim squinted his eyes closed against the bright light that poured out over them. The light was sterile, the type of light that Jim expected to see in hospitals, but there was a ruddiness to it, _Vulcan_.

The room they stepped into was vast, and Jim was once again reminded of the apparent fascination Vulcans had with open spaces. But then what he was seeing registered, and his eyes widened. Spock regarded him quietly, unmoving, which was certainly a first. Usually he would be leading him through the space, or at least a bit more confident in what he was showing. Now he seemed...distant. He wasn't all that sure why.

Jim looked around as he stepped into the room, eyes jumping from wall to wall, instrument to instrument. There was no one around. The entire place was empty, and Jim would have thought that odd, but he did not know what a usual Vulcan hospital was like, so he wasn't able to judge.

As he walked he began to realize that the room wasn't as large as he had thought it was at first glance. In fact, it was almost small. Most of what he was seeing was unfamiliar to him. He supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised, with a different biology; surely they would have instruments that would be made specifically for them. But here was where it began getting weird to him.

Jim had been in hospitals and sickbays often enough that he recognized what various tools were for, and due to the similarities in humanoids, the equipment was often similar. But these…these he couldn't even guess at what they were for. Also, there weren't nearly as many as he thought there should be for a hospital, and some of them seemed to be for things that made no sense for such a setting.

All this time, Spock was standing just inside the doorway, peering at him, waiting for him to notice _something_. It was making Kirk nervous, and further heightened the feeling that everything was not as it appeared to be. But for the life of him he couldn't…

Jim turned around, and locked eyes with something he hadn't seen before from where he had been standing at the far end of the room. There was a recess in the wall, and his eyes narrowed. In the recess was a cylindrical tank that rose about halfway up the wall. But due to the shadows that it held he couldn't see what was in it. There was a chair in front of the tank.

Jim closed in slowly, blue eyes narrowed, trying to see what was in it past the shadows. He was vaguely aware of Spock tensing the closer he got to whatever was in there, and a small part of him wanted to turn around and try and comfort him. But the rest of him was nearly swallowed up with a desire to look into the tank and stare at what was inside. It was a strange desire, and he was uncertain of where it came from, but it was everywhere.

As he got closer he began to see something inside of it. Right in the center, just below his eye level, but he believed that if he sat in the chair he would be able to see it perfectly. He was unsure what it was, but whatever it was, it was small, and seemed to be a lopsided oval in shape. There was something that ran from the top of the tank down to the center of it, and he narrowed his eyes a little more, trying to make it out.

By the time he could make it out he was almost nose-to-glass with it, and by that time his nerves were shot. A sharp gasp left his parted lips, and he jerked back. It was then that he felt the rush of _sorrow_ and _dread_ and _loss_ that wasn't his own and realized what he was looking at, and just why Spock had been so hesitant.

His eyes trailed over the still, tiny, green-flushed developing baby in the tank, with its curled up fists with five perfect little fingers on each hand, small feet with five more for each, and an artificial umbilical cord leading to its bellybutton. Jim then turned his attention to the small boy who was staring at anything but him. Jim bit his lip gently, and then walked forward until he was standing in front of him. Spock said nothing, his eyes still averted, and Jim slowly crouched down to his level.

"Hey."

Spock tensed more, his face and eyes downcast. Jim paused, and then reached out, hooking his fingers under the boy's chin and bringing Spock's face up. The boy's eyes held a wealth of sadness and hopelessness in them, staring at someone who he thought would abandon him.

"That's you then?"

Spock looked away and then finally squared his shoulders and looked up at him directly. "We are in my mother's memories that she passed on to me when I expressed some curiosity, and due to our link she was able to impart some of them. I am a hybrid of two species that should not be compatible; in fact, without significant alterations and scientific involvement, they _are_ not compatible. There were other attempts for Vulcan/Human hybrids, but none of them were successful past the age of two, or even less.

"There are several reasons for this; one reason is the differences in the gestation periods. Another is due to the mother's inability to provide an immune system that would fit for one of copper based blood, when hers is iron based. But one of the main reasons is the simple fact of a Vulcan's superior strength. Should I have developed normally, I would have caused significant damage to her, and it was much…easier, and much more logical to expend their money and resources in something that was more likely to succeed."

He walked over to the tank, placing a hand on it as well, his eyebrows knitted slightly. "The process was the same as an in vetro fertilization, only instead of being implanted directly into my mother's womb…I was placed in a tank." A small self-depreciating smile curled up the corners of his mouth. "The very definition of a test tube baby. And now you know my secret."

Jim stared at it, and then looked to Spock, opening his mouth to speak, when the door opened. The two of them turned, watching as a younger Amanda walked into the room. Jim realized who the chair was for right before she sat down in it. She removed the veil that was wrapped around her head, and made a brief look around before looking over at the still-developing baby in the tank. "Hello, baby," she whispered softly, a slight smile on her face, the emotions changing to _love adoration hope _- but there was such a soft pang of _sadness_ that it made it all seem bittersweet.

Jim closed his mouth slowly, watching as the soon-to-be mother smiled, and reached into her bag that she had brought with her with a soft laugh. "Just wait till you hear what I brought for you this time. This was my favorite story when I was a little girl." She pulled out a book then, and Jim realized that he was looking at a copy of 'Alice in Wonderland'. "They said that you aren't able to hear my voice yet, you won't be for a while, but I don't particularly care. They can call me illogical until their faces turn blue, but I am still going to read to you. It's a Grayson tradition."

She cleared her throat and then opened the book up. For a moment Jim felt himself tense for a moment, and then she began reading the book quietly. As Amanda continued reading, her voice soothing and mellow, adding various inflection into the character's voices, Jim and Spock sat down on either side of her, listening closely, smiles on their faces.

But it was then that they heard a soft sloshing type sound, and all three of them looked up at the fetus in the tank and stared as he waved his fist sluggishly through the water. Amanda stared, watching as the small fist eventually stopped moving. Then quietly, she began to speak again, reciting the story from memory, her eyes fixed on him. The fist waved again, this time accompanied by a foot.

Amanda grinned, and then she laughed, and finally she burst into tears.

Jim jolted upright at that, watching the woman who curled over herself, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking with her sobs. The door opened minutes later, although due to the slipperier feeling of human memories, it seemed like seconds. The one who walked in Jim realized was a younger Sarek. The Vulcan stopped in the doorway, staring at his wife, and Jim knew by the slight lift of an eyebrow that he was unsure what to do.

A moment passed before Sarek walked forward, and slowly came to crouch next to Amanda. Sarek hesitated, before reaching a hand out to her and placing it on her knee. She looked up at him and gave him a slightly watery smile. "I'm sorry…"

"What is it, my wife?"

Another small smile curled up her mouth, and she pointed to the tank, opening her book again and reading quietly. This time a foot came out. Sarek watched, and then turned to look at his wife who had quiet tears running down her face. "The baby kicked, and I believe…I believe he recognizes my voice."

Sarek stared at her for a moment, uncertainty apparent, but Jim's heart twinged slightly at the first four words. He had reconciled with Sam after Jim returned to Earth, and Sam had brought his pregnant wife Aurleen. Jim had seen the way her eyes lit up the first time the baby kicked and she had felt it.

She had laughed, and grabbed Jim's hand, as he was the only one in the kitchen at the time, and placed it on that bump, and asked if he could feel it. There was so much excitement in her eyes, and when he finally felt it and nodded, she had laughed, and hugged him before going off to find Sam and show him.

He looked at Amanda and felt his mouth tug down at the corners. The thought of what that woman must be going through, missing out on such small things that obviously gave them so much joy… Then he looked at Spock, looked at the tank, and then back. "Your mother still loved you."

Brown eyes flicked to his faster than he could blink, the depths of them pleading, desperate. "Did she? Could she love me? Could she love something that brought her nothing but pain since conception? You said it yourself…"

"_No_! No. That…that wasn't true, it was a horrible thing to say that I only said because… Dammit!" Jim stood up, stalking up and down the room, ignoring how the scene switched around them. "You loved your mother, you cared more than you knew how to show, and even if you never told her… You, you had that bond thing right? That parental bond?"

"Yes…"

"Then she knew. Even without it, I'm sure she knew; mothers _always_ know. She might not have been a traditional mother, whatever the hell that means, but she's your mother. She loved you, she _loves_ you. I'm positive that once she got to meet you, once she realized what and who you were I'm sure she fell head over heels for you." Jim took a breath, and sighed, "That was some of the gushiest crap that has ever left my mouth." Spock giggled, but Jim reached out, poking him. "But I meant it, and it's true so that makes it alright. But if you breathe one word about this to anyone…"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I do not know who I would tell that would believe me."

"McCoy might…"

"Jim, the time I begin having a 'heart to heart', as you say, with McCoy in which I would begin discussing such things, is the time when you must worry."

Jim burst out laughing, and finally nodded. "Alright, alright. So, we able to move on yet?"

"I lack control over these memories. We shall have to wait them out, but she spaced them."

"Alright."

That said, they sat back to wait.

As the twin suns were setting, panels that had not been visible flickered to life, light humming in their depths, but that was the only light. The glow was warm, but most of the light was reflected in the tank, a pulsing tarnished orange color, possibly due to the likely copper content. Sarek was listening to his wife finish reading the 'Alice in Wonderland' book with a raised eyebrow, Jim laughing to himself quietly as the eyebrow reached never-before-seen heights.

Finally, the two of them left, both soon-to-be parents pressing their hands to the glass. From what Jim understood that would have basically been the equivalent of a good night kiss. A small smile curved up the corner of his mouth, and he nudged the small Vulcan boy. "Aw."

Spock rolled his eyes at him, and Jim laughed. The two watched as Sarek and Amanda left, the glowing lights eerie as the doors shut and that was all they were left with, the two looking around warily at the strange shadows that were being cast. Jim half expected for something to come out and attack them, but it never came.

A while later the memory changed to yet another day, and Jim stood up again, pacing around, this time examining the instruments on the table. There were lots of them, and now that he knew what they were to be used on, more of it made sense.

He was just bending over to examine one of them when he heard a sharp gasp behind him. Jim froze, and slowly turned around. The small Spock was staring at the tank, backing away from it slowly, and Jim looked up at it, his eyes widening as he saw the cracks running down it.

There was a moment when all was still, and then it shattered, orange liquid turning green upon meeting the air, and the fetus washing out with the liquid. The artificial umbilical cord ripped itself out, green blood oozing out of the hole, coming to a rest at Spock's feet; the boy backed away from it desperately. Jim snatched him back, and backed away as the baby impossibly began to cry. Green liquid came out of his mouth, the screams turning into half-gargled things, and Jim pulled Spock to him hurriedly, his hand once again coming up to cover the boy's eyes.

But a moment later a sharp pain in his side made him let go, letting out a shout of surprise. He turned and met eyes with various instruments that were poised in the air; Jim paused for a moment, and then gripped Spock and pulled him. They ran towards the door, slipping on the liquid on the floor.

Jim felt something snag his wrist, yanking, and he shoved Spock with his free hand, just as two more somethings snagged his ankles, ripping his feet out from under him and sending him down hard. His chin met the ground, and he felt it split, blood oozing out and streaking across the floor as he was dragged back.

Spock turned around, eyes meeting the sight of Jim being dragged back towards a large tank, the glass yawning open. He felt his heart begin to pound in his side unsteadily, watching as his other hand was bound and he was brought into the center of it, his arms and legs stretched out, before the glass shut. All the while the cries continued, only getting louder until it rang in his ears, and he could feel it in his bones.

Jim couldn't move, could barely breathe, but he could see through the glass into the distorted world around him. Spock was staring at him, frozen with fear. It was then that he noticed the liquid dripping down the inside of the tank. The air took on an iron smell, and he felt it plip on his hands and head.

He looked up, and one fell under his eye, red liquid trailing down his cheek. He looked back down, eyes meeting Spock's brown eyes, his own blue wide in terror.

Spock snapped out of it and ran towards the tank, slipping over the liquid, but refusing to stop. He ducked under an instrument that flew towards his head and had a sharp point, managing to roll under it. His right foot slipped on the puddle, and he fell. When he pushed himself up he was nose to nose with the still-screaming fetus, too-large eyes open and staring into his own, green blood trickling out of an open mouth.

Jim was unable to move, his arms and legs stretched out to the side, red blood dripping and drizzling and splashing around him. The liquid was rising, now past his hips, and no matter how much he tried he couldn't imagine the glass cracking or the liquid vanishing. It was too strong for him. He tried to struggle, but the cords were wound tight.

He felt something come down to rest around his shoulders, and struggled to turn and look, barely catching sight of another black cord. Jim's eyes widened, unmoving, not screaming, as it slowly moved in front of him, resting at about eye level, the sharp pointed end aimed right between his eyes. Jim tensed, pulling against the bonds, tilting his head back. The cord pulled back, and everything was still for a moment, before it plunged through his bellybutton, deep into his gut.

Jim let out a scream of pain, back curving with it, blood sloshing around his waist and rising quick. But outside the tank, Spock couldn't hear him. But he could see him.

The small Vulcan boy had desperately yanked himself backwards, a cry of fear leaving his lips, his eyes wide and filled with terror. The fetus reached a hand out to him, desperation and fear, blood still oozing, but Spock wouldn't, he couldn't. He didn't know what to do! He looked up then, eyes meeting something that drove a gasp past his lips. A cord had just plunged deep into Jim's belly, the liquid that he was almost certain was blood reaching his waist.

Spock forced himself into motion, hurrying to the tank.

Jim felt something being forced into his stomach from the cord inside him, sweat covering him as he breathed in and out shakily, barely able to get a breath in. The feeling of it was strange, and he tugged at the cords around his wrists desperately. The liquid was up to the cord now, lapping against his chest as the flow increased. He looked up helplessly to meet eyes with a desperate-looking Spock in the small Vulcan's search for something to open the tank.

Spock stared at the top of it where metal gears and dials were churning and whining, but way beyond his reach. He met Jim's eyes and held them, that one moment holding despair and horror, before he balled his hands into a single large fist, and brought it slamming down against the glass. The instruments had vanished after they had finished their attack of him and failed.

The glass didn't react.

Jim tilted his head up, eyes closing, trying to get in a breath, the blood up to his ears, and then they were engulfed.

"_Helpless, heartless, worthless, you are __**unnatural**__."_

The words filled his mind, his heart, his chest, and he tried almost desperately to tilt his head farther back, to breathe, before the liquid closed over his head, and kept rising.

Spock brought it down again, desperation giving him strength, trying to avoid looking at Jim, tears filling his eyes, blurring his vision.

Jim was drowning. Choking on blood, his stomach distended uncomfortably with whatever was being pumped into it. He could taste iron on the back of his tongue. He could just see Spock, desperately trying to break through the glass, black beginning to encroach on his vision. Didn't they say that drowning was the best way to die when you let go? But he wasn't going to. He struggled, wiggling as much as he was able.

Spock brought his fists back once more, and swung, hitting hard. The glass spiderwebbed from where he had hit it, and Spock stared, his heart soaring as he brought his fists down again and again. The crack was getting bigger, red liquid covering his hands and spraying out, covering him, dripping down from his hair, down his clothes, down his face. Iron based blood had always been something strange to him, something foreign and unnatural. Now he was certain that every time he saw it he would be unable to stand it.

Jim couldn't struggle any more. His lungs were aching with a breath he could no longer hold, his wrists and ankles rubbed raw with his constant pulling, nothing but blackness encroaching on his vision. He was barely aware of something changing.

Spock smashed his fists into the center of the crack, and his hands plunged through, shattering the glass, and he jerked back, skin tearing as he the glass dug into his fists. The liquid came out in a flood, sending him backwards, getting in his mouth and nose. Spock rolled over slightly and coughed it out, aware that someone else was doing the same thing behind him. The cries had stopped.

There was a moment of silence aside from panting breath, before retching was heard. Spock paused, before standing up and turning, walking up to the tank and looking at Jim, eyes filled with apology and horror to see that he was throwing up blood. Spock took a breath and then began beating away at the hole he had made in the glass, attempting to make it big enough that he could reach through and release Jim. But before he did that he pulled the cord out of his stomach carefully, Jim was ready for the sting.

His mind sealed it closed again, and Jim took a breath or two. "Damn…" Spock kicked at the glass, finally breaking it away enough that the rest of it shattered, raining down. The boy's shoes crunched the glass underfoot as he stepped into where the tank had been, reaching his hands out and beginning to untie the cords, green mingling with red. Natural with unnatural, human with Vulcan.

When he had managed to untie Jim's ankles he shook his legs out briefly. There was a pause as he looked up at the ones that were wrapped around his wrists. "I do not believe I can reach them."

Jim paused, blinking, still drowsy, his head finally coming up to examine where his wrists were in relation to Spock's height. "Yeah…that might…be just…a bit…difficult," he gasped out, staring up at it and pulling, trying to unravel it with his mind. "I can't."

Spock paused, and then looked over at the chair, walking over to it, the fetus gone. He lifted it and brought it over, hooking his arm through it instead of using his hands, which were throbbing painfully.

"Why didn't you use that?"

"While it would have likely caused less pain to my person, the chair itself would have broken with the force necessary. Also, I was unaware that I could interact with it. It would likely have wasted time that I did not have if I had stopped and attempted to use that, only to find that I was unable to do so."

"Ah."

He placed it in position and climbed onto it, reaching up and gingerly untying the knots. Jim nearly collapsed, only to be held steady by the small boy. "I do not believe you should fall into the glass."

Jim paused, and looked down at the blood-soaked glass surrounding them, and burst out laughing. Tears slid down his cheeks, peach-colored streaks in the red liquid becoming visible. "Trust me Spock; I'm pretty sure that broken glass is the least of my problems. Now let's get out of here."


	14. 14 ,

McCoy had turned off the biometers. His nurses would be unable to hear them, wouldn't realize that anything was happening. But his own office held a direct link to them, so the moment that the warnings would normally go off, McCoy got up and calmly walked into the private ward. He didn't want them to be alerted that there was something wrong. After the last one he had given up on being able to help them. But he couldn't leave them alone.

The only major thing that had changed was that the adrenaline, respiratory, and circulatory readings were beginning to climb. He pulled the lone chair over, sealing the room with his authorization code and sitting down, eyes focused on the both of them.

Leonard had told himself he would be able to watch it, that he could trust the both of them to somehow manage to pull through. But the moment Jim's chin split McCoy stood up, leaning over the both of them. His fingers fisted in the bedding as he continued watching.

"Come on dammit…come on, hobgoblin, where are you. You have to…" The adrenaline levels on Spock's side were spiking and McCoy sighed, "Alright. I know you know you have to get there, so just…do it. You can do it, get there, help him. Come on, goblin…" He narrowed his eyes, watching with bated breath, gaze switching from the monitors to the two lying there. Spock's face held an expression of fear on it, and that was enough to make McCoy despair.

A moment later he began seeing blood pool at Jim's belly button level. He narrowed his eyes before pulling the blankets back, and swore at realizing that he had to rip the gown down as well to see it properly. "There goes another gown, and more cleanin' to do. Jesus, you two are going to be the death of me. As soon as you get back, Jim, you're gonna sign a hell of a lot of requisition forms for new medical gowns. Yeah, I'm gonna give you a hell of a lot of paperwork. Your favorite." He continued to speak quietly, grouching and complaining, because if he didn't, he was sure he'd be lost to the fear that was beginning to choke him.

A few moments later he noticed that Jim was holding his breath, almost desperately. "What are you holding your breath for kid…what the hell is goin' on in there? Spock…come on; get your ass movin'…" His gaze remained locked on Jim, trailing from bellybutton up. "What the hell would they want with your bellybutton anyway? I mean for cryin' out loud… There's plenty of other places that are actually more lethal. Only thing there is your…oh, well, look at that. They're after your stomach. Of course, makes _perfect_ sense to me. What the hell are they pumpin' into you this time, Jim? Oh, and hey, look at that, your wrists are rubbing themselves raw, probably your ankles too.

"This is some seriously weird shit, to watch you two, and if you wind up dying in this moment and the only thing I do is joke at you… I don't think I'd be able to stand it. So don't do this to me, you can't die. Not until I get to say a proper good-bye to your faces, and it had better be me that goes first. Jim, knowing you, you're gonna be the first to go, but I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen if I have a say in it. Even if I'm patching you up with duct tape." He gave a smirk at that, but it was weak, trembling.

"Spock, come on, where the hell are you…" The moment he said it he heard a familiar crack and winced, bringing his attention to Spock's hands and sighing. "There you are, and you broke your hands. Jim is gonna be in some serious shit if he heals those wrong, and so are you. So you better have some way to make sure he does it right. Those are important, as I'm sure you know. Come on, come on…" Jim's readings were slowing, with adrenaline still off the scale, but he wasn't going to have that left at the rate he was going. McCoy was certain that his own was reaching that level, his fingers tightening on the bed linens; and then a ripping sounded as he finally twisted too hard.

"Shit. Jim, you get to sign forms for new bed linens, too." A moment later the sound of rending flesh rang out, and McCoy winced, eyes turning to those hands, unsurprised but rather apprehensive about the slices that worked their way up and down those slim fingered hands. Then, slowly but surely, everything leveled out, and McCoy was able to breathe again – until Jim proceeded to vomit spectacularly all over Spock in a mixture of blood and phlegm, Spock coughing as well.

"Dammit Jim!" he shouted, glaring furiously. "Do you have a vendetta on Spock as well as me? Come on, that's just nasty. If Spock was awake he'd nerve pinch you into next week. Well…if you were both _awake_ he would. As it is I think he's blissfully unaware. At least I sure as hell hope he is. If he's not, you wouldn't have to worry about whatever the hell that thing is – he'd kill you himself."

He sighed, and then stripped the blankets, grumbling all the while as he cleaned them, watching as Spock's hands finally healed. He was trembling, sweat damp on him, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He didn't want to stop talking; he didn't want to stop joking. If he stopped he might break down, and he couldn't afford that, couldn't afford to even think about it. He paused for a moment to pick Spock's free hand up by the wrist and examine it. After a moment or two he nodded, and deposited it back in its place. He finally finished cleaning them both up.

McCoy sighed, cleaning up the dirty water and the rest of it, dumping it into the recycler. When he turned around he looked at the two on their biobeds and gave a soft sigh. Their hair was slightly damp, sticking up at odd angles. He smirked slightly at the black capped head with hair sticking up everywhere and gave it a brief nod.

"There. Finally, you're less than impeccably neat and tidy." He nodded, and then blinked, "Holy shit, I don't know why I didn't think of this before…" That said, he went over and pulled up a camera, smirking slightly before snapping a quick picture, grinning at the shot of Spock's hair sticking up everywhere. But then the rest of the picture caught up to him, and he sighed. "Maybe that's why."

Spock's face was flushed green, sickly, and McCoy could just make out his eyes, which were clenched tightly, lines crossing them, green rings under them. Jim was in much the same state, only due to his iron based blood, his face was flushed red. He firmly ignored the tear trails. He let out a brief sigh at that, and deleted the picture. "Dammit, Goblin, you ruin everything for me."

He sat back down on the chair, his eyes reflecting misery as he rubbed his hands across his face, three days worth of stubble digging into his fingers. "Dammit you two, dammit. Just…why do you have to do this to me? What on Earth is goin' on in there? Jim, Spock… You two have absolutely no idea about what's happenin' out here, and we have no idea about what's happenin' in there. I really…I just… I just want to know what the hell is goin' on in there."

He leaned back on his chair, closing his eyes, his mind racing, and finally he just sighed. "Well. So be it. You're trapped in what seems like hell and I'm left out. I can't tell who I'd rather be at the moment." McCoy laughed at that, and then sighed.

"Seriously you two… This is just beyond bullshit. The crew, and this entire ship have been stuck practically _driftin'_ in space a little over a week now. I can't even begin to tell you how bad that is for crew morale. I mean these people are at the end of their rope. Nowadays I'm gettin' more people in here because they went pastin' themselves across the floor due to violent sparrin' than the Engineers overworkin' themselves. I don't know if you realize how insane that is. I mean, these Engineers are working hard; they're doin' everything in their power to make sure that they can get us to Vulcan and get everythin' workin' But Scotty's pretty much down to fixin' parts with bubblegum and popsicle sticks. And no, you hobgoblin, he is not actually usin' bubblegum and popsicle sticks, it's just an expression, so you can drop the eyebrow."

McCoy paused, closing his eyes slightly, and then sighed. "I think I'm goin' crazy. I could almost hear your response to that, and I answered, too… I think that makes it worse. I seriously need to stop this. It's killin' me each and every time I come in here. I just… I can't help it. I really can't help it. I'm doin' everythin' I can to keep them from killing themselves, but I have never been the leader that either of you are. I can't tell you how many people I've managed to get to break down than calm down. It's bullshit, but I am doin' my best."

He reached a hand out, finding the heartbeat that thrummed in Spock's side, closing his eyes and paying attention, trying to force that small part of himself that still doubted that they were alive and alright into realizing that they were whole. They were alive. As long as that heart beat (_vibrated_,McCoy snickered) they would be.

He fell asleep like that, his butt going numb and his back getting a crick in it, but exhaustion and emotional turmoil got the best of him.

He was woken by an insistent but happy voice calling his name. At first he was confused, he had somehow found his face in something soft, the top of his head slightly sweaty as it was pressed onto something very warm. He was also leaning strangely. A moment later things solidified and he jerked back, away from the bed that he had been leaning on, and the back his head was pressing on, falling off the chair, and rubbing his head quickly. "Damn Goblin!"

But then the voice spoke again. "Doctor? Doctor McCoy, come on Doctor McCoy, wherever you are, I'm pretty sure you're with Jim and Spock – probably finally fell asleep. I do apologize for waking you, if and when you do wake up, but I must…" The voice of Lieutenant Uhura rang through the air. For a moment he was confused; he didn't see her anywhere, and there was something slightly tinny in the way her voice sounded – and hadn't he locked the doors?

Then what was happening hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, and he was practically tripping over himself in his haste to get to the comm. He nearly missed the right button, seeing everything with sleep in his eyes.

On the Bridge, the Alpha shift waited with bated breath (as did the rest of the crew), each one tense and expectant for the voice that would come over the channel. This was their moment, this was the realization that they were going to make it, that they were going to remain alive, that they were going to be saved. Uhura had a smile on her face, even though she had been speaking constantly for nearly three minutes. The rest of them had expressions of mischief and amusement on their faces. And then finally a voice crackled over the comm:

"Dammit Uhura, can't a man sleep around here without someone tryin' to comm.? Honestly, you give a man a heart attack and nearly send him into shock!" The usual gruffness was in its place, but with such a sweet pang of relief that it was somehow stronger than usual.

The bridge broke into smiles at that, and Uhura laughed. "Sorry Doctor, just thought you'd be interested in knowing that we finally managed to get communications back online. I'm contacting Vulcan now."

"Well why the hell didn't you contact them first?"

"You were a test run, we were building up to it, I've always been contacting the Sick Bay first. Now I'm going to attempt to contact them, bigger range as we go. I'll let you know, McCoy."

"Thanks, Uhura…" With those last two words the connection was closed, and they smiled.

"He vas not as excited as I had expected," Chekov said with a disappointed frown, and they laughed.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Chekov. Right about now I'm sure he's practically doing back flips.

In the private ward where Jim and Spock lay prone, McCoy was busy laughing his head off, his back pressed against the wall from where he had fallen against it in dizzy relief. He slumped down the wall, hands clasped over his head as he just laughed and laughed and laughed. Relief and euphoria flooded his veins and made him nearly drunk with giddy contentment.

They were going to make it. They were going to save them.

All of a sudden the ship was rocked violently and McCoy skidded across the floor. Jim and Spock's heads smashed into the top of the biobed. McCoy desperately forced himself upright, leaning against the wall and gripping the biobed as he pulled himself up. A part of him was screaming in agony, desperately wishing this wasn't happening. But that part was small, and he was quick to hurry and pull them back down into place, checking the connection they had, making sure that they were both still strapped in.

Just like that the relief was gone, they were back to fighting for their lives. It was enough to make McCoy nearly break.

Back on the bridge Uhura was busy opening every channel available to her, sending out maydays as well as requests for cease fire. The Romulan Warbird looked unlikely to respond. The _Enterprise_ was incapacitated, barely able to move in impulse, let alone warp away. The feeling of hopelessness and despair was crippling. But the crew refused to cease trying.

The Engineers were working on giving them the last burst of power and maneuverability, the last scrap of phaser power. The last of the photon torpedoes was made ready, and shields brought up as high as they could go. Scotty was shouting, his voice echoing throughout the Engineering Department, over the sound of short circuiting and explosions caused by the constant reign of fire.

The Bird of Prey was aware that the target was crippled.

Chekov and Sulu desperately used every last bit of power that Scotty was able to get them, but the hull was beginning to rupture in several places as atmospheric pressure escaped. They were in the _Kobayashi Maru_, and this time there was no Jim to bail them out.

McCoy was desperately clutching to the biobeds, eyes closed and teeth gritted. They couldn't fail, not now, not when they were so close. Not when they finally had something, not when they might be able to contact someone and finally get to Vulcan.

"Well, Jim…Spock…this might be it. This might be it. I don't know how close to the end you are, I don't know if it's possible that you might actually be close to getting' out. But out here…out here I think we're all going to die. I always knew that space was goin' to be the end of me, but…strangely I figured that you both would be with me. That you would be able to listen to me as I made my ramblin' speeches and said my goodbyes. Stupid of me, I know, but I had hoped… I'm sorry. I really am. I only hope that you don't even see it comin'."

In the Engineering Deck, Scotty had just enough time to see the blast coming so that he could shove the young Engineer out of the way. He was only a boy, and Scotty had reflexes and beliefs that ran through him even in these trying times. He was barely aware of pushing him to safety, and then attempting to get away himself before it blew and sent him across the room. Right before he passed out he was able to give a slight grin, if they survived, McCoy would shout at him. He was almost looking forward to it, if only for the fact that it would mean that things would be okay, because when McCoy didn't shout, there was something seriously wrong – and lately he hadn't been shouting.

Sulu and Chekov were slammed into the console, Uhura was sent flying off her chair, the acting captain was flung across the bridge, the science officer hurled into the railing. They looked up, past the warnings and red flashes, ears ringing with the claxons, staring at the Bird of Prey as it charged up a final attack. They were staring into the metallic face of their death, desperation and fear and _loss_ choking them.

They had failed. They were all going to die.

Then before their eyes the Bird of Prey turned away, focusing instead on something that the _Enterprise_'s crippled sensors could not find. There was a moment of silence, and then torpedo fire rained down. They slowly raised themselves off the floor, staring in shock as the Bird of Prey was not only fired upon but was totally destroyed.

Suddenly they heard something, and they all turned to the comm. station, Uhura forcing herself upright to answer.

"On screen!" the golden shirted, red-haired man stated _(so unlike their own captain)_. Uhura was quick to comply.

Their gazes met with two silver-haired men, similar features with different eyes staring down at them. One face held disguised relief and amusement in the lines around the mouth and the depths of the familiar brown eyes. The other was blank but with flashes of some form of emotion dancing behind the black eyes.

"Greetings, crew of the _Enterprise_. We believed you were in need of assistance, we come to bring you to Vulcan." The calm, nearly emotionless voice spoke to them clearly and clinically, and they couldn't help but let out a cheer that was soon picked up by the rest of the ship as they realized that they were alive.

_Sarek and Salek had brought the cavalry in, they were going to make it._


	15. And

_Well, here we go. Sorry for the wait, but it's been a busy couple of days. Hope you enjoy, people...and unfortunately it's another 'if you can'. Also, my beta is alive and well. Just had her birthday yesterday too, so we're all good. _

_Also, to my reviewers, you guys are awesome. Over 200 for this fanfic, people, you guys rock. _  
...

Spock and Jim managed to open the door, falling out once again in the emptiness that marked another endless glowing gateway. Only this time, the gateway wasn't glowing.

This time, the gateway wasn't endless.

This time, the gateway didn't make Jim wary.

This time, the gateway _terrified_ Jim.

It was huge, towering over them, formed of rusty metal and spikes. Chains crisscrossed its surface, heavy giant things, each one of them made of a link of iron that was as thick as Jim's forearm.

Two double doors, locked and impenetrable.

They were going to have to go in, but Jim couldn't think of anything he wanted to do less. It was clear to him that whatever was housed inside those doors was something that held such an emotional response that it was rusting the barrier, ruining it, changing it from something light into something dark.

He was so focused on it that he almost missed the hiss of pain that came from Spock's mouth. Almost.

Jim turned around, locking eyes with the small Vulcan who had clutched his hands to his chest, and noticed that they were bleeding. He realized that in his near panic and fatigue after getting out of the tank that he hadn't truly noticed what Spock had managed to do to himself. _In order to save you._

"Here, let me see…" Jim said, reaching a hand out. Spock hesitated slightly before scooting forward and holding his hands out. Jim grasped both wrists with his hands, twisting them so he could see them clearly. The cuts were deep, more like gashes, and the hands themselves were unable to straighten out fully, the fingers crooked.

He broke his hands in order to save Jim from drowning. Jim looked at them closely, and then looked at Spock. "Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me for doing what was necessary. I could not have allowed you to die when I was able to stop it."

"But…what about your shoes?"

Spock gave him a slight smile and moved his legs out from under him, letting Jim see the torn-up mess they were.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I find it…difficult."

Jim pressed his lips together, and looked him straight in the eye. "You don't need to hesitate to ask for help from us. After seeing the kind of shit you went through, I'm not surprised you may find it difficult, but you do not need to hesitate. If your hands are bleeding and mangled and your feet are slowly getting worn away, tell me, let me know; you're so silent that it's hard for me to tell. I want to notice, I want to say that I always will, but…well, I think we've both seen that I don't always notice."

"I do not expect you to. I apologize for not bringing it to your attention, but…"

"Don't apologize. Just let me fix it."

"Very well."

Jim paused, looking at the hands and slowly concentrating on the bones knitting together, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle, snapping into place and setting. When Spock managed to straighten them out all the way he figured he had managed to succeed on that. Next he concentrated on sealing the gashes, finally concentrating on the nerves. "How is that?"

"The telepathic sensors that are contained in my fingers are still damaged."

"Shit…I forgot about those."

"As you do not have them I do not find that surprising."

"Any particular way those need to heal?" Spock hesitated, and then placed his hands on Jim's face, closing his eyes slightly. Jim felt a slight tingle, but it was nothing like it should be. "I take it the minute I feel a buzzing I stop?"

"Indeed."

"Alright, let's do it…" He closed his eyes, imagining that the hands would heal to the point where he could feel that tingle, the evidence of the Vulcan's abilities. When he finally felt something brushing at the edges of his perception he stopped, smiling at him. "How's that?"

Spock took his hands back, flexing the fingers and then nodding, giving him a small smile in return. "Excellent, thank you."

"No trouble; now your feet. I still can't believe you didn't tell me…"

He pulled him up, popping the torn shoes off and examining the skin for any scrape or blemish. He hissed at the sight of the bottom of his feet, and then remembered the glass. "Spock, you are an idiot; _say something_."

"I will remember to do so in the future."

"You better, because if I find out that you haven't, I am going to sic Bones on you."

Spock wrinkled his nose as the glass fell from his feet, vanishing in the nothingness around them as the cuts sealed. "That would be unfortunate."

"You better believe it." Next moment a pair of heavier duty shoes came into being and he matched them to the old ones for size before letting Spock slip them on. "How are those?"

"Much better, thank you. You may wish to fix your chin. You are also still covered in blood…" Jim blinked, and then looked down at himself, and giving a slight grin, noticing for the first time how much that hurt. That thought in mind the skin and flesh sealed, and the crusted-over liquid vanished, Spock finding himself receiving the same treatment. He gave him a nod in thanks, and Jim stood up.

"Alright…now… How do we get through those?"

"I unlock them…" Spock answered quietly, his eyes focused on the large doors, but he was tense, his eyes wide, fearful. "But I do not want to," he whispered softly, and Jim paused, and then reached out, gripping the small shoulder.

"This is the last one to go through; I'll be with you every step of the way, I promise. After this we can get out of here, and we can go, we can beat this thing." Spock didn't say a word, and Jim paused, swinging him around to face him. "Spock…we can beat this thing. We can do it."

"I do not…I do not know if I wish to."

"What do you mean?"

"Jim, it has torn my memories, everything I had of my mother… The only reason I know that these are strange are the emotions that are attached to them."

Jim's eyes widened. "You can't get them back to how they were?"

"I do not remember how they were. The only one that truly is proven wrong to me is the one where I destroy you. You are in front of me, you are there, you still breathe… But in my mind you are broken. In my mind you are dead…" he whispered and Jim's eyes widened and he clutched him closer.

"Spock…SAY SOMETHING!" he shouted out, and shook him. "Will you be able to get them back, will you be able to repair them?"

"I…do not know."

"Let's get through this, let's do it. Then you need to try to repair them. If I have to…can you replace them with mine? I've seen them how they're supposed to be. I can help, alright?"

"I will attempt; if I cannot, I shall go to you."

"Thank you; now let's get this over with."

"Very well; please, stay back from the doors."

"Alright…." That said, Jim backed away, watching quietly as Spock walked up, and reached his hand out, pressing it flat on the rusty metal.

There was a pause, and then the rust began flaking off, a bright light slowly forming from where Spock's hand rested and spreading outwards. Jim closed his eyes, turning his face away as it got brighter and brighter, the light of the last one not even beginning to compare. It was making his eyes water, and he placed his arm over his eyes as a shield.

He felt a hand on his wrist and he was led forward blindly, somehow stumbling in the darkness, and finally he was pulled forward. The barrier caused his stomach to clench uncomfortably, a knot of fear and dread forming in it.

They stepped into another large room, the ground shaking, the heat crippling, and a circle of Vulcans and one human standing in front of them. Jim let out a hiss of breath, his eyes widening, watching in near horror as a blue shirted science officer ran up to them, telling them in as composed a voice as he could that they would have to evacuate. The room was coming down around them, and they followed him. Jim looked at Spock, only to be pushed forward, and they ran after them.

In every glance that Jim had of him, he realized that Spock was running arm in arm with his mother. Statues fell, Vulcans were crushed, and all the while they were running to the fate of one woman that had meant everything to her son. They were in Vulcan's destruction. They were in the memory that had the most emotional attachments to it, and the rolling mesh of_ panic fear despair horror anguish anger hatred to the one who is causing this_ proved it. But there was something else that made Jim sick to his stomach.

_Hope_. Hope that when they made it out of the cave, when they made it out into the open, they would be caught, they would be beamed up. They would be saved.

Jim almost found himself hoping that the memory would change for the better. But then he thought about it. How much worse would it be to wake up and find out that what you remembered was a lie? That your mother was really dead, and even your memories were lying to you.

The small Spock thought he was being held onto by a ghost, a fragment. Jim desperately wished, desperately _hoped_ that they could be fixed. How much would it destroy a person, finding that their hopes, their memories, their _life_ was a lie?

They ran through it, and Jim let out a shout when the first thing fell right through him.

When they finally made it outside, Jim was able to see the widespread damage that it was actually doing. Rock was crumbling, everything was falling to pieces. He watched with a type of despair as the remaining Vulcans and one human woman were caught in a transporter beam. He wished to yell at Spock to reach out, grab her, pull her close to him and not let go. But he could not.

He watched with his heart plummeting to his stomach as the woman fell, Spock's arm stretching out and a shout of "Mother!" leaving his lips. With that they were gone. One plummeting down a cliff, never to live, never to breathe, never to hold her son close to her, never to read to him, never to speak to him. The _agony_ split through the memory like a knife through a heart, and made Jim nearly fall to his knees.

Suddenly, the world stopped. Everything ceased crumbling, the sound cutting off like someone had pulled the needle off a record. But there was something else, something quiet and lilting, a soft little rhyme being sung, the actual words of which were indecipherable through the echoes, but there was no mistaking the melody and the tune. The voice, what he could hear of it, was deep, rich, and he could guess at the words.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder what you are!  
Up above the world so high,  
Like a diamond in the sky!

When the blazing sun is gone,  
When he nothing shines upon,  
Then you show your little light,  
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark,  
Thanks you for your tiny spark,  
He could not see which way to go,  
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,  
And often through my curtains peep,  
For you never shut your eye,  
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark,  
Lights the traveler in the dark,—  
Though I know not what you are,  
Twinkle, twinkle, little star."

Jim walked forward, and leaned over the edge, looking down, and gasped at what he saw there. There was a black dome, red electricity crackling along the outside of it, and every so often a blue streak would crackle across it, trying to escape it seemed like. Spock hadn't moved.

"What's wrong?" Jim finally asked, looking back at him.

"That song…my mother used to sing it. That is my human half."

"Then we need to get down there."

"Jim…" His voice was strangled, and then Jim realized what else was down there. He spared a quick glance over the edge, and flicked his eyes back to Spock.

"I'll carry you down; you won't have to look."

"The rock is not safe…"

"I can find a way, trust me. I've learned to climb several things. There used to be a big man-made rock quarry by my house in Iowa. I learned how to get up and down it…"

"Jim, it is not a matter of your skill. I am Vulcan-this was my home planet; climbing is something I learned to do almost as soon as I could walk. But due to this I know more about the terrain. This rock would crumble should you attempt."

"Well…we'll use this then…" That said a rope appeared in his hands, and he knotted it around a solid-looking rock, checking to make sure it wouldn't fray before they could reach the bottom.

Jim grasped a hold of it tightly, and then walked over, tying it securely around Spock's waist and thighs and letting Spock 'sit' as he lowered him slightly over the edge. This time there were no complaints. Moving the rope to the proper position to keep it from slipping out of his hands and letting Spock fall, he lowered the small boy to the ground.

Due to Vulcan muscle and bone density, he was heavier than he looked. When he had carried him it hadn't been all that much trouble; there were other things to concentrate on. Here, he could only think about how much heavier he seemed to be getting.

Finally the small boy's voice rang out in a shout, piercing the song, and making the singer stop.

Jim paused, and then carefully walked over to the edge and set to lowering himself down. It was a long drop, and he was happy for the extra physical training exercises he had forced himself through. It wouldn't do to get this far only to plummet to his death due to being too weak to climb all the way down. Or slide… His leather gloves that he had called up were put to good use as he slid his way down to the bottom.

When he finally stepped away from the cliff, he found Spock with his eyes closed, standing still, his hands balled into fists. Jim reached forward, bringing one hand up to cover those eyes, the other to grasp his shoulder. The two of them walked forward carefully, Jim desperately avoiding looking at the woman that was crumbled, broken, bleeding.

"Jim?" a voice called, one that was familiar to Kirk's ears, and made him blink. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Spock?"

"Time for answers later; for now, get me out of here; it's coming; you can't ward it off alone!" The voice was Spock's, his Spock's, the one he worked with; it held both emotions and contractions, only this time he knew it wasn't the _others_.

"Alright…how do I get you out of there?"

"It needs to be broken!"

"How?"

"Use your imagination of course; what would you use to break up a force field?"

"Tactical nuke?" Jim asked with a grin.

"Hey, we have a funny man over here… Seriously, you have to help me. I can't get out, I can't help you, and it's coming."

"Well…how do you expect me to do what you can't?"

"I don't have my other half; I'm not as strong as I should be. You're at least whole."

It was a point, and Jim moved forward slightly.

That was when a hand wrapped around his ankle, his head slowly turning and looking down.

A wide grin stretched the skin of the broken woman behind him. "Too laaaaate!" she sang out, and there was a moment of silence, before the hand grasping Jim's ankle tightened, and a crack was heard.

He let out a shout, letting go of Spock's eyes, and shoulder, just in time to be thrown backwards, slamming into the cliff face and sliding down. Spock whirled, meeting eyes with an Amanda without a finger, her face bleeding, blood seeping from wounds, ribs cracked, body disfigured into something no living being could contain. She stood up jerkily, brokenly, and he looked up into a smiling face that held teeth the size of his hand.

"Hello, baby…" she said softly, and Spock's eyes widened. He desperately backed away towards the force field, only for her hand to come out, gripping his shoulder. "Did you know that you always had a proud mother?" She laughed, loud, manically.

"You are not real. You cannot exist. You are not there. _You do not frighten me,_" Spock shouted his eyes, wide in terror.

"I know…"

"_Leave him alone! Let go of him!" _The voice came from behind them both, only for the force field to suddenly become smaller. A voice screamed in pain from inside of it, and Jim forced himself upright, and ran.

She turned to him, and smirked, an ugly thing that only served to enhance the already crushed skull. "Aw…are you trying to save him; this can't do…"

Next moment there was another one next to him, and it reached out, grasping his chin tightly in long talon-tipped fingers. The dead eyes that stared into his soul made Jim freeze, his eyes widening.

Another voice joined the other in the scream, and Jim managed to smash her out of the way, "Spock!"

Spock had been lifted in the air, arms and legs stretched out, small cuts appearing on his body. They were increasing in depth, in length, green splattering to the ground. Not-Amanda was laughing, joy held in the sound, Spock's screams providing a backdrop. Jim desperately tried to run faster, he needed to get there. He needed to save him.

Then he felt something. Something was tugging him, but when he looked there was nothing there. A voice called his name, something on the edge of his consciousness. He continued to try and run, but he couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't feel anything. The screams were fading, and suddenly they just weren't there.

Everything was black, and he slowly forced his eyes open, each one feeling like they weighed a ton. He was barely aware of a hand sliding off of his forehead, and he took a breath, coughing it out a moment later. Jim forced himself to turn his head slightly, looking up into bright light, two dark blurry shapes forming in his field of vision.

He was disoriented, confused. _What the hell happened?_

Suddenly it hit him at the same moment the biobed began its wailing. He was no longer in the meld.

Spock was alone.


	16. 16 To

_Holy hell, where the hell do I start with this thing... Okay, first things first, I am so so sorry that it took so long. To be honest I had this chapter finished ages ago, buuut, my computer restarted before I could send it to my beta and I lost HALF THE DAMN CHAPTER, THE ENDING HALF. It was gone. I was pissed, and then I was upset, and no matter how much I tried to rewrite the damn thing, it didn't work. Soo, that's my reason. Shock combined with writers block. Hate. Second to last chapter people. Second to last chapter. _  
...

Jim felt groggy, his head weighed a ton, and he was barely able to move. The bed he was on was soft, but he felt like his nerves were on fire. He was barely aware of small flecks of liquid splattering on him, and then one landed in his eye. That eye was covered with a green liquid film until he blinked it away, realizing a moment later exactly what that was.

The sounds that were floating around him were suddenly audible, and he slowly, desperately tried to lift his head, eyes focused on the face before him, wrinkled, worried. "No…" he said softly, his voice a croak, disuse, dryness choking it and making it rusty. But there was one face that turned to him from where he was at the far end of the room, hazel eyes holding the slow realization that maybe they should have waited.

He was barely aware of a form in the bed next to him being moved, placed on another bed, a team of Vulcan healers working to combat whatever was causing the damage. Jim desperately tried to shove himself up. He felt like his arms were made of lead, his body heavy and somehow unfamiliar.

He felt a sharp pain in his arms and paused, looking down, eyes following the tubes and wires that ran from them. He reached out, fingers clumsily closing around them as he began tugging them out. It hurt like hell, and discoloration became apparent under the skin as soon as they slid out, but he wouldn't, he _couldn't_ stop. He went to get up, all his focus on the biobed at the other side of the room, his doctor and Vulcan healers surrounding the figure there, but then he felt something…strange.

He managed a brief flash of annoyance before removing the bag from the bed, forcing himself upright and off of it. He ignored the uncomfortable nature of it, walking gingerly, hand grasping at the back of the gown. But no matter how uncomfortable or strange he found his situation, Jim was fully focused on the biobed at the other end of the room.

He could hear the wailings of the biobed, he could hear their rapid monotone speech, and he could hear McCoy's own rough Georgian drawl splitting over it all, but he just couldn't _see_ him. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He didn't want to see what was causing their controlled but no less visible panic.

Jim's own voice added to the panic. "What's going on? What's going on; what's happening to him? Can you stop it?"

"Jim… Stay back." The voice was old, aged, but familiar, and Jim turned around, blue eyes wide, wild, staring into a pair of dark brown.

"I can't, he's…oh…no…" his voice trailed off, watching a Vulcan healer walk back to retrieve something, green blood splattered up his robes, face, hair. His expression was blank, but his eyes…

Jim looked away; eyes firmly focused on that biobed, and began trying to get there. An aged yet warm hand closed around his arm, and he tried to ignore it, tried to get it to let go, tried to make it to that biobed.

"Jim, you cannot help them; you must stay back. You would only serve as a distraction." Jim bobbed on his toes, ignoring the voice, still trying to walk forward.

"Why aren't they going in his mind?"

"They are unable to. There are wards in place, stronger than they can breach, and they are afraid of the possible contamination. If whatever is in my counterpart's mind is strong enough to overpower him…"

Jim had tuned him out, his only thought on the realization that they weren't going to enter that mind. They weren't going to be able to save him. They didn't understand that Spock was just a boy in his mind; they didn't understand that he needed help. They didn't understand that he needed their protection.

His mind was focused on these thoughts, desperation fueling his mind, his only thought on getting back into that Vulcan's head. He struggled with the Vulcan, trying to get out of the older man's grip. But no matter how old Salek was, he couldn't get out. He felt beyond groggy, but he didn't stop. He released the back of the gown, uncaring, reaching over, gripping the arm of the one who was holding him back, meeting those brown eyes. "Let me go."

Salek hesitated, but there was a voice that rose above the wailings, McCoy's voice, something that caused both of them to turn. Jim chose that moment to jerk his arm free and the bag slipping from his fingers, falling to the ground. The contents exploded out, mixing with another green liquid that had splattered on the floor, trailing from one biobed to the other. His voice called out again, a shout of "No, please!" making Jim's attention focus on that biobed once again.

Jim's mind reached out to Spock, panic and desperation reaching a fever pitch in his mind, fueling his need to get there, to protect that boy, to save the man he became. It was then that something strange happened; he took a few steps forward, eyes and mind locked on one place, one form, one Vulcan, and suddenly something clicked.

Salek watched in near horror as Jim suddenly froze, his eyes widening, and suddenly rolling back into his head, falling to the ground, landing in a mixture of blood and urine, and he felt his heart stop.

_This was not supposed to happen…_  
….

When Jim came to it was to a familiar blank and empty space, and this time he knew what to do. He had no time to question how he had made it in, but he had, and that was good enough for him. His body was once again forced into being, and he called up the first door he had gone through, remembering what he found there, remembering what it felt like.

When the ice door came up, he reached over, pressing it, pushing at it, and finally slamming his hands against it. Spock had told him that it would recognize him, that it would let him in should he will it hard enough… Well, he was willing it now. "COME ON!" he shouted, beating against it one last time, and suddenly he fell through. He forced himself upright, ignoring the cold, trying to ignore the torn-up Spock, Amanda cackling gleefully in the corner, and just ran. Door after door was opened, destroyed memory after destroyed memory passed over in favor of getting to the next barrier.

He got there quicker this time, no interactions with the thing to worry about. Jim was going faster and faster, his mind propelling him to that center, to that Vulcan. He couldn't hesitate, he couldn't let him die. Jim made it through the first barrier, managing to make it to the world between them.

He took a breath, calming himself before reaching out, pressing his hand to the barrier and slowly forcing himself through, uncaring of the heat. There was no _time_. He fell through it, the heat scorching his skin, ignoring it in favor of hurrying through. Once he got into the room with the learning bowls he danced around slightly, eyes focused on any hint that he could bypass the wait of sitting through them.

He didn't have time for it, and he was _over_ it. Jim rushed to the back of the room, attempting various doors as he went, hoping that one of them would let him in, would let him bypass it. He could never find it; none of the doors would open. Jim made it to the learning bowl Spock had been in, and after a moment of contemplation moved in next to the small fragment of Spock's memory.

"Alright, I don't know how I'm supposed to do this, so, well…you're my best bet. How do I get to the next memory? How do I bypass this? Please…please tell me you talk…"

There was a pause, and then the head slowly turned, eyes staring into his own, holding relief in their brown depths. Jim felt his heart leap, his mouth opening to speak, when a slow curving smile tilted the mouth up, the beginnings of jagged teeth forming. "Wondered when you'd get back…"

Jim fell backwards, the grinning thing taking a step forward. "You know, I was holding bets… I kept wondering, 'would you figure it out…would you come back and believe that you could save him?'" He took slow step after step, getting taller as he went, arm cracking, skull being crushed, hair thinning and body stretching, Jim desperately crawling backwards away from the thing as it advanced. "And you know what? You did; you decided that you would be the one to save him yet again. But I have news for you…" Both hands came out, slamming into the inside of the learning bowl on either side of his head, its face tilting forward, body stretching impossibly long. "He's going to die."

James Tiberius Kirk stared into two flaming red orbs that spelled his death and smiled. The being had just enough time for its expression to hold confusion before Jim kicked it in the gut, and in that moment of surprise ducked under it, and rolled out of the bowl. His mind reached out, and decided quite simply that there was no reason to wait to pass all these Vulcan-related ones. A pull of his mind fast forwarded them.

He saw the start of the next memory, running through them as they came, a voice behind him rising into an echoing call that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He stumbled, nearly tripping and continuing on his run, reaching the memory that contained his broken body strewn on the floor. He could see the lift, he could do this, he could make it.

A hand gripped his ankle, and he fell; turning his head slightly he was met with the sight of his mangled body, head lolling uselessly. Its hand tightened, and a slow twisted smile curved up the corners of its mouth. "Are you really certain you can make it there in time? I'm everywhere; you'll never be able to remove me."

Jim brought his foot back, slamming it into that face without hesitation. There was a further sickening crack and the hand's grip faltered, letting Jim pull his foot away. "That's what you think." Calm quiet, his voice hissing out between his teeth. He was done messing around. This thing was going to die.

It forced itself upright, eyes reflecting the deepest fury and hatred, and Jim was quietly terrified at the expression on that face, his face. He rolled backwards, away from the thing as it lunged, stumbling to his feet and running. The thing lurched after him, head lolling uselessly, purple and blue bruising ringing it from the hands that had been wrapped around it.

Jim slammed his hand on the button, hurrying inside it when it opened. The doors closed, and he leaned back against the wall.

_Breath in, breath out_.

The doors slid open, and a clawed hand flew towards him. He ducked, the hand imbedding itself in the wall just above his head as he crawled forward, managing to avoid the thing as he left the lift and was in the hallway. The thing growled, the noise coming from what looked to be his mouth contrasting with everything he knew. The hand detached itself from the back of the lift, Jim managing to run away from it down the hall, only for it to suddenly shift around him.

He pulled up short as the walls began shifting, the metal blackening. Jim turned, eyes wide, regarding the end of the hallway and the hell mouth it was turning into. Red fire licked the inside of the elevator, black smoke choking the air as it grew.

"_You're going to die…."_

Jim stumbled back and ran, his focus on the door, his exit. A second later the thing dropped from the ceiling in front of him. Its eyes were pinpricks of fire, a smile as twisted as its neck on its face. Suddenly the floor jerked, sending Jim sprawling to the floor as it sucked him backwards, towards the ever-growing fire. He desperately crawled forward, forcing himself upright as he went, running as fast as he could. The thing on the other hand didn't even bother to move.

Jim saw it coming towards him, claws lengthening and swinging towards him. Jim took that moment to duck, the thing letting out a shriek as it missed, heading to the fire behind them. Jim took a quick look behind him, eyes widening at the sight of the thing being engulfed in the flames, nearly tripping over his own feet as the scream it gave filled the air nearly as thick as the increasing smoke.

Jim coughed, the smell of burning flesh permeating the air as the black smoke finally spread to engulf him. He concentrated on breathing, remembering that it had been a mistake a moment too late. Next moment he had tripped and was hurled by the floor towards the fire at the end. Jim had just enough time to yell before he was engulfed in the flames. He screamed, pain flickering up and down his nerves before his mind, in one unending cry of _'put it out put it out put it out_,_' _managed to douse the flames, the hallway returning to normal.

Kirk slowly forced himself onto his hands and knees, his every nerve in agony. His skin was horribly burned, blood oozing out in some places, shirt melted from the heat itself. His nose was bleeding, and he panted through his mouth, mind beginning the tedious process of trying to knit himself back together, the rest of himself trying to remove any trace of his mental signature. If he could get that thing to believe he had died…

He slowly forced himself up, and began his painful crawl to the end of the hallway. He couldn't give up. He couldn't give up.

He finally forced himself upright, beginning a limping shuffling walk as things healed, and skin reformed. He shoved the door open finally, whimpering at the pain as he finally made it into the area between barriers, the bright light stinging his eyes, which were already running. His nose had stopped bleeding, and he began peeling the shirt away from his skin, dropping it when he finally could, hissing as it tore flesh again until he reformed it. The rest of the ensemble was given a touch up, and he moved forward quickly, pressing his hands against the barrier, feeling that familiar weight of shame in his stomach and running through it.

This time he knew where to go, and this time he could bypass it. As everything pieced itself together he ran. He ignored the boy and his sehlat, running to the lights he could see in the distance, Shi-Khar. He reached a hand out and after seeing it disappear he followed after. He ignored the teenager, running as fast as he could to where Spock used to room. The crack behind him made him wince, but he continued.

He made it to the door quickly, his mind once again pulling himself to it faster, opening it, and turning around to open it again left him in Amanda's memories. These he bounced in, listening with half an ear as the two once again soon-to-be mother read to her son, as the parents talked. Finally the memories past, and he was once again in-between the barriers. This time he launched himself forward, bringing both his hands up to the barrier that was this time bright.

It had been opened, and therefore had no time to begin festering again.

He launched himself into the stillness of the memory, ears barely catching the screams that echoed in the strange cave. This time when he got to the ledge he didn't stop running, instead jumping into the stillness. By luck or chance, or his mind's own design he landed directly on the thing, flattening it to the ground, his mind having slowed his plummet and leaving him intact enough to stand up and stomp on its face, a shriek piercing the sudden silence as he did so.

There was also a thud directly behind him.

Jim turned, meeting eyes with a small Spock, shivering, blood leaking out of what looked like every body part, brown tunic in shreds and barely hanging on.

He met eyes with the barrier, and with a slight moment of concentration, popped it. The force field vanished, leaving a group of Spocks on the ground, stirring slightly when it became apparent that they were free.

The thing struggled from where Jim's foot was planted firmly on its chest. Jim looked down at him quietly, a slow snarling smile curling up the corners of his mouth. "Hey, nice to see you. Did you think I had died?"

Its eyes were focused on Jim in fear. "It can't be, it can't be! I felt you burn! I felt you burn!"

"Yeah, well…apparently I got just a bit better at this whole 'mind thing.'" Jim grinned, viciously. He felt a presence behind him and turned slightly to be met by the grateful, shocked, and shell-shocked eyes of the one he had come to save. But those eyes turned vicious when they locked onto the wiggling thing under Jim's boot.

"You may release him."

Jim glared at the thing, and stomped down on his chest once, before backing away. It was Spock's mind, his thing, his villain. He walked over to the one lying on the ground, locking eyes with another small boy crouching over him. As what he was seeing caught up with his brain he hurried forward, crouching down next to the human version of the small Spock.

The small human boy looked up to him, tears trickling from brown eyes. Jim locked eyes with him, and saw a moment of confusion and then amusement flash in those eyes before they turned back to fear.

Jim turned his eyes at that moment to the small boy, and reached out, hand pressing to his chest, feeling the lungs expand and contract under skin and bone and blood. There was so much blood. "Hey…"

Spock coughed, and grinned at him slightly, the small Vulcan boy reaching a quivering hand out to him. Jim paused, and then reached out, hand closing around the small wrist, the other wrapping around his own, and slowly began trying to knit those wounds closed. It was only a moment later that he noticed that the wounds that he had just closed reopened on the human counterpart. He blinked, and ceased, looking at both of them.

There was a shriek and a scream behind them, the voice rising in pitch in volume until it echoed off the walls, the Vulcan halves wincing slightly, and the human ones continuing what they were doing, all minus the three on the outskirts.

Two humans, one Vulcan. Two boys, one man.

In the silence that followed, the rest of them walked up slowly, crouching or sitting around them. Their eyes were focused on Jim like he was something that they had never seen before. Jim could take it no longer and finally looked around at them all. "What? Come on, you didn't really expect me to just leave you alone, did you?"

"It would have been logical. Once you escaped you could have ordered me to be killed, destroying the creature in the process." The one who said this was a teenager, his slanted eyebrow rising slightly.

Jim winced at the thought, and shook his head. "There was no way I could have done that… Not to you guys. Not to you…"

"Jim…I do not understand…" The human teenager this time, and Jim met eyes with him.

"You're my friend, you're my brother, and if you think that I'm gonna let some stupid bastard of a being destroy you, then you have another thing coming, because that's bullshit. That's bullshit and I won't have it."

"It is strange that you should mention 'brother'." This time the human adult spoke quietly, and Jim turned to regard him strangely. "Had you not wondered how you got into my mind to begin with?"

"Well…actually…I was kinda too busy running for my life, being burned alive and…oh, you know, trying to save you," Jim said, sarcastically, but as he thought of it, that was strange. How _did_ he get back into the meld?

Another Spock gave him a small smile. "Jim, I did tell you that you would likely not leave the meld the same as you entered."

"Excuse me?"

"Jim…while you were here, you acted the part of an elder sibling; someone who took care of my young counterpart and was willing to defend him to the death. My mind realized that, and your mind believed yourself to be that elder sibling. Jim, my mind formed a bond with yours. A bond of siblings, of brothers; by Vulcan law, we are now related in that manner. You are my brother."

Jim blinked, and then blinked again.

"I apologize if this is something you did not wish…"

Jim took that moment to throw his head back and laugh. When he could finally contain his laughter he shook his head. "No, no, brothers, hell, that's great, that's…that's awesome!" And then he paused, and his face turned pale. "Wait a moment…that means…I'm pseudo-related to Sarek?"

Spock's eyebrow rose slightly. "If you have formed a sibling bond with me, then yes, by default Sarek would be your father."

"Oh…great…" Jim said softly, and grinned. "But…how did I get in here?"

"The bond started forming, and likely due to my own mind's desperate latching onto anything that would help me, I inadvertently pulled you in. I apologize."

"Don't. You're still alive, that's all that matters. I have one other question though, how did that thing get in here?"

"You recall shore leave?"

"Yes…"

"When you and Doctor McCoy left to go to the bar, I was left alone. My memory is unclear, but there was someone else, someone who desired something hard enough to infiltrate a Vulcan's mind to gain it."

Jim was quiet for a moment. "Remind me never to leave you out of my sight on shore leave again."

A few of the Spocks laughed, others holding smiles. They paused for a moment, and then met Jim's eyes. "It is time for you to leave now. When you get out…Jim… I…I wish for you to tell McCoy. Everything. Please, do that for me. I cannot, and he needs…deserves to know. Jim, also warn him that when we combine those injuries that we had sustained will come back. My life is in his hands; we will try and give him time, but that does not change the fact that we will not be able to be healed as we had before. You merely pushed the injuries into another form."

"But…what about me?"

"You are a small fragment of your mind, Jim. When you came back in contact with your mind it was able to disprove your experiences. The healing therefore stayed. But in my body, with me, it is not as such. Good luck, Jim. And thank you. I will need some time to repair my memories, but I will eventually resurface. Do not worry." With that, everything faded, once again, to black, only this time, the darkness was welcome.


	17. Us

_Ladies and Gentlemen, we have reached the end of our harrowing journey, and as always, I choose to go out with a 'bang'. This of course depends on your definition of the word 'bang' but hey, we're still going to leave an impression. I am considering writing a bonus chapter. Something involving possible bloopers, deleted scenes, and maybe an alternate ending. That...well...will certainly be interesting. Also, a big thank you to my beta Lilith Luciferia for being patient and awesome as per usual and going through every mind numbing chapter. Without her there would be a hell of a lot more errors. Also, a huge thank you to all my readers and reviewers, you guys give me the drive to push and bring all my talents to the foreground. You guys rock, and to all you lurkers, thanks for sticking around_. _Hope you like the ending as much as you loved the journey. As evil as it was..._  
_Please review!_  
...

Jim's mouth tugged into a smile before his eyes even began to flutter open. To say that it made the Georgian-born Doctor relieved would be an understatement. "Bones, he's gonna join back together…" he rasped out, pausing for a moment to breathe. "Do you remember what all happened to him? Because it's gonna happen again. Bones, please, do your best; keep him alive."

McCoy listened to the words that came out of his best friend's mouth and confusion mounted, until the biobed wailed again, and a Vulcan healer requested a bone knitter. Leonard felt his heart sink, and then more voices joined the first, and the tone was changing. McCoy turned around slowly, listening in amazement as he registered a change in tone. Next moment he was wading into the fray with the expertise of one who dealt with the half-Vulcan on a regular basis.

The surgery was long, grueling; Leonard up to his elbows in green cooling blood, but his mouth was pulled into a manic smile the entire time. He was finally given the chance to save him, and he was not failing now.

When they were finally finished Spock was stable, the Vulcans were satisfied, and McCoy was practically euphoric. Sitting with his back pressed against the wall and his head buried in his upper arms, green-splashed forearms clasped in front of him, laughter bubbling out randomly. He was relieved, and he was tired. The Vulcans gave him his moment, quietly cleaning tools, busying themselves with straightening and tidying the area. Jim was grinning to himself, eyes closed, letting the feeling of their success wash over him.

McCoy was finally prodded into standing up and moved over to clean up by a pair of Vulcan healers, the indifference and calm that they presented leading to him calming down exponentially. After that was done they quietly led him over to a biobed next to Jim, adjusting it before he was pushed down onto it so the alarms would not go off. McCoy accepted their heavy hinting, mainly because he was ridiculously tired, and figured that it was likely a better idea to sleep than argue.

Jim felt groggy enough that he figured he could sleep, only to meet the twinkling eyes of an elder Spock and smile. "Hey, old man, nice to see you."

"It is as detrimental to my health and mental state to see you as it used to be, my friend, but I do not 'hold a grudge' with you for it."

Jim laughed, voice sandpaper-rough until he fell into a coughing fit. A Vulcan healer brought him some water, and Jim noticed then that it was cool in the hospital versus the usual dry heat. He was leveled upright, and while he felt like he could at least sit up, he let them help him drink, letting himself be lowered back down afterwards. He wrinkled his nose when he smelled something foul, only to realize that he was feeling more tired than he had been. Once again, everything fell into blackness, this time drug induced.

The next time Jim awoke he felt better than he had in a long while. The reason for this was standing right in front of him - faces split into wide, slightly ridiculous smiles, eyes slightly glassy with un-spilled tears. He gave them an answering grin, and slowly levered himself upright, feeling them tense, ready to help him should he need it. When he was sitting upright, he looked around at them all, smirking slightly.

"So, were you able to manage the ship without my awesome presence there to lead you all to victory?" Jim asked finally, and the four people standing there burst out laughing, reaching out to hug him, pat him on his back, and tell him how glad they were that he was alright.

"Jim, if you ever do anything that stupid again, I am blowing your ship up, and Scotty is not going to be able to stop me." Uhura glared at him, her words ringing through the chaos of the reunion that had been a long time in coming.

Jim automatically jerked his head over to look at her, his own face pulling into an angry glare of his own. "You do that and I am so not coming back!"

"You lowe ze ship more zan us?" Chekov asked; there was a teasing edge to his voice, but Jim blinked before cocking his head to the side.

"Of course not, but if it wasn't for that ship…" his voice trailed off, and he sighed. "This is way too deep of a conversation to have just when a guy wakes up from fighting for his life and the life of his First."

That made them sober up immediately and they looked at each other before looking back at Jim. "He still hasn't woken up yet…"

Jim realized then what it would seem like and gave them a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine, he just…some of his memories were savagely butchered and he is cleaning them up before he resurfaces. To be honest…considering what that thing did, it's probably a good thing that he is refusing to resurface before everything is fixed."

They blinked, looking at each other before focusing on Jim. "What happened in there?"

It was a question that Jim was dreading with almost every fiber of his being, and he paused, wincing slightly before looking at the biobed at the far end of the room, and the Vulcan lying still and silent on it. He considered, and then looked up at them with a slight shake of his head. "I can't talk about it. It's not really my story to tell, and there's…there's a lot of shit in there that's a bit wild, and all of it is personal to that Vulcan."

Scotty, Sulu, Chekov and Nyota traded glances, and then looked back at him, sitting on chairs that the Vulcans had been helpful enough to leave out for them. They looked at each other before sighing, "Will he be alright?"

Jim paused, looking over at the still form on the biobed and shrugged weakly. "I think so…he was fine when I left."

"Jim, as much as we might joke about it, or rib you for it… I have to admit that I'm both surprised and relieved that you cared about him enough to go in and do that." Jim opened his mouth to protest, only for her to continue, "Especially since it cost you your hair…I didn't think you would be able to stand that, no offense, but well…" Nyota spoke softly, tentatively, her brown eyes reflecting adoration, but slowly clouding as she noticed the mounting horror that seemed to be in Jim's eyes.

Jim's mouth closed. He blinked. He blinked again, and slowly, rigidly lifted his hand up. The four of them watched, tensing slightly as that hand trembled, and slowly, with the lightest of fingertips, touched the top of his head. Those fingers paused, gently spreading out tentatively, eyes pressed closed, and face pulled into a grimace. Finally, in a fit of desperation that hand pressed flat to the top of his head, rubbed around once, twice, three times, and finally trailed down from his head to eyebrows, and then gripped at the neck of his gown, pulling it out a little and looking down at the rest of him.

"Bullshit." It was then that they realized that he had had no idea what they were talking about.

"Jim…it's really not that bad!" Sulu started.

"Yeah, it's bold, sort of…um…well…"

"It's not that bad, really, Jim; you're still as attractive as ever, I mean…"

Jim was glaring at them, hairless eyebrows pinched together and face pulled into a snarl. The four of them looked at each other helplessly and turned back to look to him in despair. "We thought you knew!"

Jim fisted his fingers in the blankets, and looked over at the half-Vulcan lying peacefully on the bed. "Well…actually, no, a certain Vulcan didn't mention it to me. How bad is the damage; will it grow back?"

"Actually, Jim, I'm sorry, most of it won't." The Georgian drawl from the Doctor would be something that Jim would normally be happy to hear, but at this point in time it pushed him over the edge from slightly on edge, to bubbling rage.

"WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT IT WON'T GROW BACK? I'M STUCK LIKE THIS? BALD IN MY _TWENTIES_, WHAT KINDA SHIT IS THIS? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!" Jim shouted out, hands gesturing wildly, expression a mixture of rage and disbelief. It was both comical and distressing, and Uhura was hard pressed not to laugh at the hairless Jim that was snarling at them. The ranting continued and they listened, finally beginning to giggle helplessly in some cases, Chekov and Uhura finally bursting out into full fledged laughter that led to Jim snarling and attempting to tackle them. Scotty and Sulu grabbed him before he could fall off the bed. This of course made them laugh harder, Sulu and Scotty finally falling into soft chuckles. The only one who was not was McCoy, and his mouth was twitching suspiciously, before he finally clapped his hands loudly, over the sound of Jim's ranting and threats and nearly hysterical laughter.

They fell silent, Jim glaring at him angrily, fuming. "Jim, the hair on the top of your head and your eyebrows will grow back out. The rest of it…the hair follicles were destroyed, and it therefore will not grow back on the rest of your body. But hey, look at it this way, at least then you won't have to shave. It will take a while, but it will grow back."

Kirk hesitated, panting, looking at each of them closely before turning his head back to meet McCoy's gaze. "The hair on my head will grow back?"

"The hair on your head will grow back," McCoy confirmed, nodding.

Jim slowly relaxed, and finally gave a sigh. "Alright. Alright, I'm good, you can let go of me…"

"I'm sorry it was such a shock, Jim; you really didn't know?"

"No, but…then again, I wasn't really all that good at it to begin with. I kept having issues. You…had to watch all that, didn't you?"

McCoy paused, looking to the side before sighing, "Yeah, I was there for every moment. These guys saw a bit of it."

"I do not ewer vant to see zat again, Keptain."

Jim paused, and looked at them all, staring at him silently, eyes holding a gravity he hadn't seen in them before. "Hey, guys, it's fine. I'm alright, Spock's alright, we'll both be alright. Spock needs a little time to piece his memory back together, but he'll come out of it soon, I promise."

They looked at him, eyes searching his for honesty, before small smiles appeared on their faces and they nodded. The rest of the time was spent updating Jim on the status of the ship. To his slight surprise, McCoy was lauded for his help, above and beyond the typical medical job as they detailed the way he would give alternatives to the overworked crew, helping them stay healthy and sane. It seemed that even with the amount of time that he had spent in sickbay he had also had a hand in the internal workings of the people of the _Enterprise_.

Jim gave him a grin, clapping him on the back. "Always knew you had it in you, Bones."

McCoy snorted, before shoving his hand off. "Never put me in that position again; leadin' these kids is your job, not mine."

Kirk paused, before nodding. "I'll try and make it a point."

Finally the four officers had to leave, McCoy remaining as one of the head medical practitioners. Jim paused, looking around slightly, and then turned to McCoy. "Spock…Spock told me to tell you what happened in there. He told me that you needed to know."

Leonard's eyebrow shot to the ceiling. "Oh? The hobgoblin wanted to let me in on some of his most precious memories?"

"Bones knock it off," Jim glared, and McCoy held his hands up. Jim paused, and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, slightly unsettled at the absence of hair that he would usually find there. "This is hard to start…there was a lot of stuff that happened in there and absolutely none of it was pretty. Just…hell…"

Slowly but surely, word by word, Jim began detailing what had happened in the meld. Describing in half-stilted speech what had been found there and what the thing had looked like. Each and every word spoken made McCoy tense, hands clasping into fists as he listened, mouth pulling into an angry frown. Jim quoted verbatim every word spoken to that Vulcan that he had heard, and each and every thing that that creature had said and did. Neither of them noticed the other Vulcan that stood in the doorway, hands clasped as well, lined face pulled into a small, nearly unnoticeable frown, eyes flickering with unknown emotions.

When Jim finally could speak no more he trailed off, and a heavy silence followed. "Do you know what the weird thing is though?" he finally asked, eyebrows pinching again. "His mind latched onto mine. We're actually brothers now; we have one of those weird link things. It's kind of strange; I can't really feel it, but…"

"Your mind formed a sibling bond with Spock's?" The voice made them jump, and the two of them turned to stare at the Vulcan who had been standing there. Jim's eyes widened when he realized he was staring at Sarek.

"Um…yeah, um…surprise? I'm…kinda related to you guys somehow… I'm sorry, I didn't really mean to, but, um…" To Jim's surprise, Sarek shook his head.

"It is not undesired, merely surprising. That sort of bond would not form lightly."

"Trust me, it didn't."

"Indeed." He leveled him with a striking gaze, and finally walked forward. Jim tensed, eyes widening, as he came closer step by step.

"I thank thee for saving my son." At that Jim blinked before moving to wave it off. "No, do not cloud yourself in modesty that is not necessary. You risked your life many times over to save that of my son, and I thank you for this. I would be honored to accept you into our family."

Jim's eyes widened, McCoy's jaw dropping, before the Ambassador bowed. "I have much to attend to. I shall leave you now; live long and prosper until our next meeting, no matter how soon it may be." Then, just as silently as he had entered, he left.

"Well…that was the strangest thing I've ever seen."

Jim paused, and then started to laugh. "Trust me, Bones, you haven't seen anything yet."

"Yeah, I suppose not, compared to your crazy villains and all that other shit in Spock's head. I can't believe… Well…I can't believe a lot of it, but I think I know why he told you to tell me."

"What do you mean?"

"Face it, Jim. Neither of us get along enough to really wish to trade that amount of information about ourselves. He told you to tell me to give you a type of preemptive therapy, and damn, do you need it."

Jim spluttered wildly, and McCoy just laughed, clapping him on the back and grinning at him. "It's really good to be able to talk to you again, Jim. I missed it. Now if only the hobgoblin would get back, too."  
…

Contrary to Jim's word, Spock did not surface any time soon. In that time, Jim got stronger, was back to eating normal amounts, and had a hairpiece that the crew had affectionately named 'Blondie'. Jim was annoyed, but he was amused. But he was still worried about Spock. Even though McCoy grumbled about New Vulcan being too hot to be a regular vacation, the crew took shore leave there as a whole, waiting for when Spock would resurface. The show of loyalty was astounding and left Jim feeling warm on his First's behalf.

Even then, Jim finally could take it no more and visited him, once again falling into the mind of his 'brother'. He formed his body, and slowly sat down on the air, waiting for Spock to join him. He was unsurprised when someone popped up. He _was_ surprised at the fact that he seemed to be a teenager. Spock smiled at him, pointy ears and eyebrows the same, but he couldn't have been older than fifteen. "Jim."

"Spock?"

Spock paused, then looked down at himself and made a brief 'ah' sound. "Vulcans have a longer lifespan than a human; you were aware of this?"

"Well…yeah, I just thought… Actually…that makes a lot of sense come to think of it. Your memories, their tone; huh, I guess I really hadn't thought of it. Damn."

"It is of little consequence. How is everyone?" Spock asked, rolling his eyes at the first bit.

"Worried about you to be honest, and so was I…how are things going; is everything piecing together alright?"

"It has been a slow and tedious process, but it is being done. I apologize for the wait, but I am doing the best I can."

"No, no, take as long as you need; I just wanted to make sure, see how you were. The rest are worried too; I think they'd take it better if it came from you."

"Thank you for your concern."

"No problem; oh…by the bye…I have a bone to pick with you. What's with the not telling me that my hair was burned off?" Jim snarled out at him, glaring at him. He watched that face light up in a bright smile before he was shoved unceremoniously out of Spock's mind with a quick,

"Bye, Jim!"

He fell on his ass as soon as he rejoined with his own mind, glaring at the form on the biobed. "Jerk."

A few days later Jim was on the ship with the rest of the normal bridge crew. As happy as the crew was to see Jim in the captain's chair, they couldn't help but look at the science station every so often. It was a lazy day, and they were quietly chatting, their orbit around New Vulcan held easily. That was when the comm. came through. "He's waking up!"

The officers stood up automatically, only to realize that there would be no one to man the bridge should they leave, only to have a team of officers enter from the lift. "Go, give him our regards."

They didn't need to be told twice.  
…..

"Is he waking up yet?"

"His brain waves are kickin' up; he's certainly workin' on it."

"Come on, Spock, wake up, open your eyes, do something!"

"Don't shake him, ya moron!"

"Sorry, Bones…"

"You better be."

"Oh come on, I saved his mind from a tyrannical invader, I should be allowed to freak out when he's supposed to be waking but he won't open his eyes!"

"Back with the mentions of your brilliant save, can your ego get any bigger?"

"Hey, even Sarek is proud to have me in his family. I'd say that entitles me to getting a huge ego."

"Yeah well, I can't wait until someone pops your swollen head and brings you down a few notches."

"But Bones, then I won't have a head! I won't be able to command or do any other awesome things without a head!"

"That is, of course, easily rectifiable. All one would need to do is take a balloon, inflate it with helium, draw a manic smile on its 'face', and then attach it to your spinal column. I am quite certain that it would perform your job quite adequately."

The silence was omnipresent, until snickering and snorting and finally all out hysterical laughter was heard, Spock's eyes blinking open to be met with the sight of a Jim that was laughing almost as hard as the rest of them. McCoy was turning a bright shade of red, and the rest were nearly falling over themselves.

"I do not understand; did I say something humorous?"

McCoy was the one to stop laughing first, and grinning wide enough to split his face open he clapped his hand on Spock's shoulder, shaking him fondly.

"It's good to have you back, Hobgoblin."


End file.
